


The Hunt

by Wi1dflower



Category: The Rook (TV 2019)
Genre: Chases, Fluff, Multi, Smut, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-10-06 12:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wi1dflower/pseuds/Wi1dflower
Summary: After two failed attempts, Gestalt is confident Myfanwy would never be able to run from them. They would always find her. Myfanwy disagrees, she could disappear if she really wanted to. They decide to test her theory. Let the hunt begin.





	1. The Agreement

The bright morning sun spilled into the room. Evidence of last night's activities was littered across the floor; tracksuit trousers strewed beside the bed, dress shirt crumpled in the far corner, a bra hung precariously from the bedroom door handle. 

Myfanwy blinked sleepily against the intruding light and buried her head deeper into Alex’s side. His skin warm, smooth. She pressed a kiss over his heart. 

Behind her, Robert’s arm tightened around her waist. 

“Good morning,” Eliza whispered, voice husky. 

“Sleep well?” 

Myfanwy opened her eyes to look at Teddy. His gelled hair had not fared well after their rendezvous. Several pieces stuck haphazardly to the side of his face, others shot straight up into the air. She laughed at the sight and stretched an arm across Alex to run her fingers through it. 

“You look a mess,” Myfanwy teased. 

Teddy hummed at the feeling of her hand in his hair. “And whose fault is that?” 

Beneath the covers, Alex stroked down her hip to her thigh, and back up again. With each revolution, his hand inched slightly closer to her aching center, and Myfanwy’s rebuttal died on her lips. Her breathing hitched as Robert began to nip and suck the nape of her neck. 

It was at that precise moment Gestalt’s alarm sounded. 

Eliza reached behind her to turn it off while Alex and Robert wordlessly disentangled themselves from Myfanwy’s heated body. 

“What the hell?” she complained. 

Teddy stood at the side of the bed, smirking down at her. “Got to get ready for work.” 

Myfanwy looked incredulously between Gestalt’s bodies. “It can’t wait five more minutes?” 

“I’m a highly valuable Checquy asset,” Robert said seriously. 

“Without me, the entire country would be in peril,” Alex joked on his way to the attached bath, bare arse on full display. 

“Surely, the country can afford to be in peril for five minutes!”

Gestalt laughed at Myfanwy's disappointed expression. As much as they wanted to crawl back into bed and finish what they started, they really were needed in the office today. The Checquy had intercepted encrypted messages of a shipment of EVA’s arriving in London soon. It was their responsibility to determine the exact time and date and coordinate a tactical rescue mission.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Eliza promised, leaning down to kiss the top of Myfanwy’s head.

Gestalt divided themselves, each body setting to work on a morning task; Alex showered, Teddy prepared breakfast, Eliza responded to work emails, and Robert straightened out the bedroom. They rotated periodically until each body was washed and dressed. 

Myfanwy joined Teddy in his shower. They stood together under the hot spray, skin slick with soap. He washed her hair, secretly thrilled by the thought of her smelling like Eliza’s shampoo. Smelling like  _ them _ . 

Afterward, wrapped in a plush towel, Myfanwy examined the inside of Gestalt’s closet. They had insisted she keep some spare clothes at their place and made room on the rack for her. She decided on a black pencil skirt and white button-down blouse. She dressed quickly and made her way to the dining area, where Gestalt had laid out a spread of breakfast options. 

“Feeding an army?” she laughed. 

Alex paused, just about to set a plate of eggs on the table. “Oh, I thought—“

Myfanwy rushed to his side and kissed his cheek. “It looks wonderful,” she reassured. 

Eliza appeared at her side and pulled Myfanwy’s chair out for her to sit in. A chair they had recently purchased specifically for her. There had actually been several changes to their flat in the last few months. Most notably, they had invested in a larger bed, one that could comfortably fit five bodies instead of four. The scent of her rose oil perfume covered each of their pillows. A stack of Myfanwy’s books now also sat on top of their coffee table. And her favorite knitted blanket lay folded at the foot of their sofa. They had all been welcome changes. Gestalt’s flat had never felt more like home. 

At the table, they settled into an easy conversation. Despite her teasing, Myfanwy was truly impressed by the food. She poked at a piece of cantaloupe with her fork and moaned when it hit her tongue. 

Robert stopped speaking mid-sentence. Myfanwy looked up from her plate curiously and found that four pairs of eyes were trained intently on her mouth. 

“Yes?” she asked, confused. 

Gestalt shook themselves out of their stupor, and hurriedly changed the subject. 

“Does Conrad have you working late this week?” Alex questioned, mouth full of toast. 

Myfanwy nodded her head. “Yeah. It’s all hands on deck until this EVA shipment is sorted.”

“We’ll find them,” said Eliza. 

“It shouldn’t be too hard. I found you and Linda, after all,” Teddy replied casually. 

She narrowed her eyes at Gestalt. “What do you mean? I told you where to find us.”

Robert cleared his throat. “Yes, but I would have found you anyways.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. It’s my job, Myfanwy,” Eliza explained patiently. “We were already looking for you before you called. Even if the Lugat hadn’t gotten to you first, you never would have made it out of the country.” 

“Okay, but you only knew to look for me because I’d left a letter. What about the night Nazim wiped my memories? What if things had gone differently and I’d left with my sister? You wouldn’t have had any warning,” Myfanwy argued. 

Gestalt grimaced. They had nightmares about that exact scenario. Her office and flat inexplicably vacant. Phone calls going straight to voicemail. The palpable fear of not knowing if she was alive or dead. If she had been captured and sold by the Lugat. They didn’t need the reminder of how close they’d come to losing her, even if only temporarily.

“I would have kept looking until I found you.”

“Torn the whole fucking continent apart if I had to.” Teddy’s fists clenched in his lap. 

Myfanwy felt indignant at their self-confidence.

“Not that it really matters. It all worked out in the end,” Alex pacified. 

They finished breakfast in an uncomfortable silence. Gestalt tried to engage Myfanwy in more general topics such as the weather, but she only stared at her napkin and occasionally nodded her head in acknowledgment. 

She thought about what Gestalt had said.  _ Would they have found her? _ Sure, they had high-tech government surveillance at their disposal and years of espionage training. There was also the advantage of having four bodies. Gestalt could easily work in shifts, one body asleep, and the other three awake.  _ Did she really never stand a chance?  _

The drive to the Checquy was a blur. Myfanwy stared out the passenger window, vaguely aware of Teddy throwing her worried glances every few minutes. Gestalt couldn’t compartmentalize properly if she was mad at them. Three bodies sat in the backseat and chewed their fingernails down to the nubs. 

“Did I say something to upset you?” Eliza finally asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, no. I’m just thinking.” 

Myfanwy’s response wasn’t much comfort. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Robert offered.

“Not right now.” 

When they arrived at work, Myfanwy quickly retreated to the privacy of her office. New developments on the EVA shipment kept her busy all morning and most of the afternoon. The entire floor was in chaos due to false intel that led them to believe the EVAs would be arriving in a matter of hours. Things quickly calmed down when it was revealed to be a hoax. 

Myfanwy signed her signature on the last of the paperwork and called Ingrid into her office. 

“What do you need, Myf?” 

Myfanwy opened and closed her mouth, trying to find the right words, but paused when she caught Alex’s eye from across the hallway. He looked at her contemplatively, brow furrowed as if in deep thought. 

She quickly rose from her desk and shut the door. “I want to talk to you about Gestalt,” she said, sitting down in a chair that faced away from Alex, so he wouldn’t see her face. 

“What did they do now?” Ingrid groaned. 

“They didn’t do anything, exactly. It’s more something they said.” Myfanwy took a deep breath. “They suggested I never would have been able to leave the Checquy with them on my trail.”

“That’s actually probably true,” Ingrid admitted. 

“You don’t think I would have made it?”

“I don’t know. Gestalt is very good at their job.” Ingrid frowned at Myfanwy’s despondent expression. “But so are you. You’re smart. At the very least, you’d have given them a run for their money.”

That gave Myfanwy an idea. 

An idea she spent the rest of the day cultivating. By the time Robert appeared in her office doorway to escort her down to the car, she was in much brighter spirits. She greeted him with a chaste kiss, and Gestalt felt themselves relax for the first time in hours. Whatever Ingrid said to her had a positive effect. They made a mental note to send her flowers. 

They chatted idly during the drive to Gestalt’s flat, and Myfanwy played with Teddy’s fingers in her lap. She watched the streetlights as they drove. They looked like fairy lights this late at night. Myfanwy lowered the window so she could feel the cool air against her skin. 

Alex held out his hand for her when they arrived at Gestalt’s building. His thumb stroked over her knuckles on the lift ride up. Myfanwy smiled at him knowingly. 

“I hope you’re not tired,” Eliza purred outside their door. 

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the promise I made to you this morning.” Robert nuzzled her neck. 

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Soft lips moved against hers. Someone walked her backward until she was safely inside the flat. A moment later, her back hit a wall, and she kicked her shoes off. Strong hands traveled up to cup her breasts. 

_ Wasn’t there something she wanted to say?  _

Myfanwy wasn’t able to think clearly with so many hands on her body. 

“Wait,” she gasped. Four bodies instantly stepped away from her. 

“What’s wrong?” Alex frowned.

Myfanwy felt dizzy. “I have an idea.”

Teddy smiled devilishly. “Do tell.”

She laughed breathlessly. “Not that kind. But I would like you to hear me out.” 

They looked at her expectantly. Myfanwy walked further into the flat to sit in a cushioned chair. Gestalt followed close behind.

“I want a rematch.” 

“What?” Gestalt asked all at once. 

“This morning, you said that you’d have found me if I disappeared. That you were always going to find me. I think you’re wrong.”

Gestalt sat quietly and processed her words. 

“I’m not saying I want to run away. Not anymore,” Myfanwy rushed, “I just think you underestimate me.”

“What is it that you’re suggesting?”

She took a deep breath. “I want you to hunt me.”

They stared at her unblinking. 

“We can do it once things have calmed down at work, take some time off for ourselves. It doesn’t have to be for long. A few days,” Myfanwy rambled. “If I avoid your capture, I win.” 

Gestalt considered the logistics. Their tablets had access to live traffic feeds. They couldn’t invalidate her passport without involving bureaucracy, but they could limit the search parameters as a condition of their agreement. Their four bodies versus her one. Gestalt also knew Myfanwy better than anyone. They knew where she’d be likely to go, where she’d feel safest. 

Myfanwy watched them nervously. This was a bad idea. Of course, they thought it was stupid. It’s a complete waste—

“Alright,” Alex smirked. “What do I get when I win?”

“Wait, really?” 

“Yeah.” Teddy pulled Myfanwy to her feet and held her against his chest. 

“It’s a bit hot, don’t you think?” Eliza came up behind her. 

“The thrill of the chase. You as my prey,” Robert murmured. He sat relaxed on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, arms spread out. His eyes roamed over her body hungrily. 

Myfanwy’s cheeks flushed. 

Teddy hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. With a kiss, Gestalt sealed their promise. 


	2. The Rules

Gestalt sat unmoving across the table from Myfanwy. It had been a week since they agreed to the hunt, and like any good bureaucrat during a time of negotiation, she had drawn up a contract. The document lay in front of Eliza, and she went over it with a fine-tooth comb. The others stared at Myfanwy, occasionally rolling their eyes or gritting their teeth when they read a condition they didn’t particularly agree with. Eliza scribbled out words and added her own as she worked her way down the paper. 

Myfanwy watched as she exaggeratedly crossed out the last line, tapped her pen on the table, then started over from the beginning. 

“Oh, come on!” 

Eliza looked up at Myfanwy. “Problem?”

“You’ve already read it three times! If you keep going, there won’t be anything left but scribbles.”

Teddy sighed in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’ve already agreed, Myfanwy. I’ll give you what you want. But we’re going to do this safely. These conditions,” he pointed at the paper, “are not safe.” 

“Why not?” she demanded.

Robert scoffed. “Let’s start with the fact that you don’t want to carry a phone.”

“You’ll track it,” Myfanwy huffed.

“I won’t. If something were to go wrong, I need to be able to reach you. That’s not negotiable.”

“What could go wrong?”

Eliza raised her eyebrows. “You were fucking kidnapped the last time.” 

Myfanwy leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She could feel a headache coming on. “Fine, but the second I suspect you’ve gone back on your word, I’m tossing it in the nearest bin.” 

Gestalt smiled at their easy victory. 

“What else?”

“Bronwyn.”

Myfanwy’s eyes snapped open. “What about her?”

“Do we have to involve your sister?” Gestalt asked together.

Alex chewed on his thumbnail. “She’s already tried to take you away from me twice.”

Myfanwy’s anger flared at the accusation against her sister, but the scared expression on the four bodies seated in front of her quickly extinguished it. She reached across the table to hold Alex and Teddy’s hands. They gripped her hand tightly. 

“I’m coming back.”

Gestalt took a deep breath. 

“I know you don’t like it, but the plan was always to run away with her. It only makes sense that she comes with me now,” Myfanwy explained.

Teddy lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “I trust you.”

They spent the rest of the night revising Myfanwy’s contract. It was a frustrating process, but by the end, both Gestalt and Myfanwy felt the playing field was fair. They agreed she would travel with Bronwyn under the false identification her sister had previously arranged. It had taken some time to convince Bronwyn that Myfanwy intended to return after their escapade, but she came around when it was suggested it would be an opportunity to prove Gestalt—and by association, the Checquy—wrong. 

They also decided that hunt would last a week.

Gestalt and Myfanwy had already put in a request for immediate leave following the resolution of the EVA shipment. Once their leave took effect, Myfanwy would have six hours head start to run before Gestalt gave chase.

Under the time constraints and restricted access to government resources while on leave, Myfanwy agreed to remain in Europe. It had been an easy compromise. She never imagined herself living anywhere else had she actually left all those months ago. This would always be her home. 

The means and methods under which Gestalt would track her were entirely up to them. The only exception was her phone. It gave them peace of mind to know despite the distance between them, Myfanwy was only a phone call away. As easy as it would be to trace it, they would respect her wishes. 

Likewise, Myfanwy was permitted to run under any conditions she saw fit. No mode of transport was prohibited. 

Satisfied with the final product, Gestalt printed the revised document, and they signed their names at the bottom. They teased Myfanwy about the formality, but she insisted the rules were necessary to keep them in line. If they broke a rule, it would be a breach of contract, and she would win by default. 

They didn’t waste any time trying to gain intel. As soon as Myfanwy dropped the pen on the table, Alex pulled her chair close and lifted her onto his lap. Hungry lips closed over hers. One hand wrapped securely around her back, and the other cupped her cheek. 

“Give me a hint.”

She rolled her eyes at their dirty tactics. “No.”

Alex moved his hands down her hips to grind her against his hardening length. 

“Please?” Eliza whispered. She gathered Myfanwy’s hair away from her face and sucked on the soft skin below her ear. 

Myfanwy let out a moan. She could feel her resolve slipping away. “No?”

Robert moved around to her other side and pulled her mouth away from Alex’s and onto his. Myfanwy braced her hands on Alex’s shoulders as she rode him over his clothes. The taste of Robert on her lips sent her spiraling towards a quick release. 

“One hint,” Teddy murmured. 

Alex panted as he felt his own climax approaching. He caught Myfanwy’s heated gaze and smiled up at her happily. 

At that moment, Myfanwy decided if Gestalt didn’t intend to play fair, she didn’t either. She indulged in one last kiss against Robert’s mouth then slipped off Alex’s lap, his erection still tented in his trousers. 

“Wait, no,” Gestalt cried, reaching for her. “Come back here.” 

Myfanwy smirked at them. “I think it’s best that I go home now.”

They stared at her speechless as she tucked the document safely inside her bag and walked out of their flat without a backward glance. 

She paused outside their door to catch her breath. Myfanwy smiled to herself. They didn’t stand a chance. She would be ready to run as soon as the opportunity presented itself. 

Fortunately, the wait was short. 

Three days later, the Checquy intercepted another message that detailed the time and drop-off location for the EVAs. They were scheduled to arrive within the hour at a remote house south of London. The Lugat's poor encryption made Gestalt’s job very easy. 

Myfanwy waited in her office for updates. She blinked repeatedly at her computer screen, her eyes not fully registering the words in front of her. The safety of the EVAs should be her first priority, but her mind wandered elsewhere. Assuming the mission was a success, Conrad would grant their leave, and she would be on a plane by the end of the day. The thought sent a shiver through her body. 

She listened carefully to the chatter down the hall. Six guards. Four entrances. Surveillance feed killed. EVAs found. No shots fired. 

Myfanwy smiled. Gestalt had been as impatient as her to finish this assignment. She knew they were enjoying themselves now. The prelude to their hunt. 

The floor was abuzz as they confirmed no lives had been lost. The Lugat would be brought in for interrogation, and the rescued EVAs sent to New Glengrove. Local authorities and other Checquy assets would be dispatched to the house to take over the case, and Gestalt would be on their way back to the office soon. 

As the news spread, Myfanwy focused on the last bit of her workload. She had put in extra hours the past week to make up for her upcoming absence. Ingrid had been a tremendous help, overseeing some of the finer details of Myfanwy’s job. 

Robert and Eliza appeared in her doorway an hour later. A black bruise had developed over his right eye, and blood on his lip suggested it had been split open. Myfanwy’s heart raced at the sight.

“What’s this?” she stroked her thumb over his slightly swollen eyelid then down to his bottom lip. 

Robert hummed at her attention. “It’s nothing.”

“A member of the Lugat got the drop on me,” Eliza admitted sheepishly.

Myfanwy smiled at them softly. “That’s not like you.”

Gestalt dropped their heads and looked up at her from beneath their eyelashes. “I was busy thinking about you.”

She felt warm all over at the unrestrained emotion in their eyes. Myfanwy looked past their shoulders to make sure no one was looking, then leaned forward to kiss Eliza deeply. Next to her, Robert’s breathing quickened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. 

“Good news,” he murmured after a moment. 

Myfanwy pulled back from Eliza’s mouth. “You’re taking me home so we can continue this in bed?”

“Not quite,” Teddy appeared in her office. “Conrad approved our leave.” 

“Although, I prefer your suggestion. Let’s do that instead.” Robert brushed his fingers down her arm. 

Myfanwy laughed. “So we can go then?”

“Yes.” Eliza played with a strand of Myfanwy’s hair. “I think Conrad suspects our leave is sex-related.”

“What?” Myfanwy sputtered, her cheeks flushing red. 

“Are you surprised? You and all of me taking a week from work at the same time,” Teddy smirked. “Besides, he’s not entirely wrong, is he?”

Myfanwy covered her face with her hands. Brilliant. There would undoubtedly be questions when they returned. She groaned internally at the thought of Ingrid pressing her for answers. She could be very insistent, and Myfanwy knew she’d reveal everything over a few glasses of wine. 

Gestalt smirked at her embarrassment. 

“Can I drive you home?” Eliza asked hopefully, eyes bright. 

Myfanwy nodded her head. She quickly straightened out her desk and left a note for Ingrid to deliver a stack of files to Conrad in the morning. Gestalt followed behind her as they made their way downstairs. They kept their hands on her body, taking in these final few moments alone with her. 

Alex was already waiting in the driver’s seat when they reached the car. He turned to smile at Myfanwy as she situated herself between Teddy and Robert in the back. 

“You ready?”

Myfanwy grabbed Gestalt’s hands and held them in her lap. “Yes,” she sighed. 

The ride to her flat seemed brief. Gestalt’s eyes roamed her body as if memorizing every detail. Myfanwy kissed them slowly, already looking forward to their reunion. A week without Gestalt’s touch was far too long, but Myfanwy had a point to prove. 

Alex pulled up to her building and turned off the ignition. They sat in the silence for a moment, both Myfanwy and Gestalt mentally preparing themselves for the separation.

“I’ll miss you.” Gestalt stared at her heatedly, tempted to follow her upstairs. 

Myfanwy smiled at them. “See you soon.”

Robert stepped out of the car and offered his hand to help her out. She kissed him deeply before walking towards her building. Halfway down the sidewalk, she paused and turned back to Gestalt. “You never told me what you want. If you win, I mean.”

Robert smirked, still standing beside the car. “It’s a secret.”

Myfanwy frowned at the vague response. After a minute she decided it didn’t matter. Gestalt would lose anyway. 

She continued into her building to gather her packed suitcase, texting Bronwyn on the way. 

Gestalt waited until she was safely inside the building before they pulled away. They’d catch a few hours of sleep while Myfanwy made her arrangements out of the city. Adrenaline already rushed through their bodies at the thought of her running. They pushed down the lingering fear that she would choose to stay on the run with Bronwyn. Myfanwy had promised them she’d return. But they were prepared to fight if they had to. Gestalt would make sure Myfanwy chose them. 

Let the hunt begin. 


	3. The Escape

Myfanwy’s heart beat erratically in her chest as she made her way up to the flat. Her hands shook slightly over her phone, and more than once, she had to delete the text she composed and start again. Security at the front desk gave her a disconcerted look, but let her pass without a word. She called the lift down to the lobby and stared anxiously at her screen, waiting for Bronwyn to respond. There were less than six hours before Gestalt would give chase, and she was eager to get out of the city. 

The lift descended agonizingly slow. When the doors finally opened, she hurried inside and repeatedly pressed the button for her floor. She watched the numbers on the panel tick up and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors opened again. 

Myfanwy let herself into her flat a moment later. She turned on the kitchen lights then poured herself a glass of cold water. Bronwyn still hadn’t replied to her text. She tossed her phone onto the countertop with a sigh and walked over to her front windows to watch the traffic down below.

“Hello, Myfanwy.”

Myfanwy startled, the glass dropping from her hand and hitting the floor with a loud crash. She spun around and found Bronwyn smirking at her from the sofa, illuminated by the setting sun. 

“What the hell?” Myfanwy gasped, a hand pressed over her racing heart. “How long have you been here?"

Bronwyn rose from her seat. “I got here as soon as you messaged me this afternoon.”

“Why?” Myfanwy asked on her way to the kitchen, careful not to step on any shards of broken glass.

“Element of surprise. Your friends at the Checquy will be checking the surveillance cameras in and around this building. I figured they wouldn’t think to review the footage from earlier today.”

Myfanwy returned with a towel and began cleaning up the mess. She opened her mouth to ask how Bronwyn made it past security and into her flat, but three soft knocks sounded on the door. Her head snapped up, and Bronwyn moved to answer it. 

“What are you doing?”

“No worries. They’re with me,” Bronwyn reassured. She opened the door, and two women walked in carrying matching black suitcases.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

“Back there.” Bronwyn pointed behind her. 

The women walked past Myfanwy and into her bedroom. She followed them and watched in horror as they raided her closet, throwing clothes haphazardly onto the bed. 

“What are you doing?” she stammered.

Bronwyn came up behind Myfanwy and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “They’re your decoys. They need to wear your clothes for it to work. Don’t fret, you’ll get them back.” 

One of the women began to undress, oblivious to Myfanwy’s discomfort. 

“Were you wearing those clothes all day?” The other woman gestured to Myfanwy’s skirt and blouse. 

“Yes,” Her brow furrowed.

“I need them.” 

Myfanwy turned to look at her sister for help, but Bronwyn only grinned. “Go on then.”

“Gestalt won’t be happy about this. The agreement doesn’t say anything about other participants.” 

Bronwyn groaned. “I don’t give a fuck about Gestalt’s feelings. You asked me to get you out of the country, and that’s what I’m going to do. Now strip.”

Myfanwy rolled her eyes and walked toward the adjoining bathroom, picking up a t-shirt and pair of jeans on the way. 

From the other side of the door, she heard Bronwyn and the two women murmuring to each other, but she couldn’t make out the words. She changed clothes, then examined her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bright and cheeks slightly flushed. She took a deep breath and pulled open the door to rejoin the others. 

They had wandered from the bedroom, and Myfanwy followed their voices to the sitting room. As she approached them, Bronwyn handed both of the women thick, white envelopes and set two more on a nearby table. 

“Everything is in there. If you run into any issues, you have my number.” 

She caught Myfanwy’s eye and nodded at the folded clothes in her hands. The woman who had spoken to her earlier rose from her seat, took the clothes from her, and disappeared to the bedroom. 

When the woman returned, she opened a suitcase by the door and neatly placed her own clothes inside. Bronwyn jumped off the sofa, grabbing one of Myfanwy’s jackets from a pile beside her. 

The woman shrugged on the garment and raised the hood over her head. “What do you think?”

Bronwyn circled the woman, nodding her head in approval. “Perfect. Just make sure to keep your head down.”

“Right. Should I head out?”

“Yeah. Stick to the plan. Do not deviate.” Bronwyn opened the door. “Good luck.”

The woman shoved the envelope into one of her pockets, grabbed her suitcase, and left without another word.

Bronwyn returned to the sofa and continued her conversation with the other woman. Not sensing any urgency, Myfanwy busied herself with straightening up her flat. She finished cleaning up the broken glass and hung up the wet towel to dry. She then moved to the bathroom, packing a few last-minute toiletries into her suitcase. In the bedroom, she hung up the hangers left on the floor and tidied up the bed. 

She tried to think like Gestalt. 

Myfanwy knew her flat would be their first stop. They’d tear it apart in their search for information. She felt confident they wouldn’t find anything, though. Bronwyn made all the arrangements, and Myfanwy hadn’t kept any type of documentation. 

She decided to have a bit of fun. 

Retrieving a pen and piece of paper, Myfanwy wrote Gestalt a letter. The words flowed easily, and soon her delicate script covered the entire paper. She signed her name at the bottom, then folded the paper closed. She pressed a kiss to it and left it lying on top of her pillow. 

“What’s that?”

Myfanwy jumped and found her sister leaning against the doorway. “Would you stop doing that?”

“No, and you didn’t answer my question.” Bronwyn eyed the letter curiously. 

“It’s nothing.” Myfanwy’s face suddenly felt hot. “Where’s your friend?”

“She left. You’ll be leaving soon, too.”

Myfanwy stared at her, confused. “We’re not leaving together?”

“No. There’s been a slight change of plans. I’m meeting you tomorrow at the safe house,” she explained. 

“How are you getting there?”

“I’m taking the train up to Edinburgh and catching a flight to Amsterdam in the morning,” Bronwyn smiled.

“What about those women?” Myfanwy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Who are they anyway?”

Bronwyn tossed herself onto the bed. “Members of the Resistance. They owed me a favor. One is on her way to Dover, where she’ll board a ferry to Belgium then make her way to Italy. The other is going to Heathrow Airport to get on a plane bound for Spain.”

“Is all of this really necessary?” Myfanwy asked.

“Yes! This has gone to shit the last two times. I’ll be damned if it happens again.” Bronwyn sat up and looked Myfanwy in the eyes. “This is going to work. Gestalt will see a woman wearing your clothes leave this building. They’ll assume it’s you and unknowingly follow her to Italy. When they realize their mistake and review the surveillance footage, they’ll find three other lookalikes. Three other possible leads. And we’ll be long gone.” 

Myfanwy laughed at her sister’s conniving expression. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”

“Loads. Now, what should I wear?” Bronwyn leapt off the bed and rummaged through the remains of Myfanwy’s closet, frowning at her blazers and pressed trousers. “Remind me to take you shopping when this is all over.”

After she changed clothes, Bronwyn handed her one of the envelopes from the sitting room. Inside, Myfanwy found various forms of identification as well as a plane ticket, all under an alias. 

“Wait, are these the correct tickets?” 

Bronwyn chewed on her bottom lip. “Gestalt is going to check all the nearby airports. It’s safer if you fly out from one further away.”

“Bristol Airport?” Myfanwy whined, burying her face in her hands. “Out of all the airports in the UK, you had to choose Bristol?”

“What?”

“Don’t play coy. I never should have told you about Andrew. Gestalt is going to be furious,” Myfanwy grumbled, forcing the papers back into the envelope.

Bronwyn smirked. “Not my problem. Anyway, a car is scheduled to meet you downstairs in five minutes. Are you ready?”

Myfanwy looked around her flat and nodded her head. Even though she’d only be gone a week, she suddenly felt a rush of emotion at the prospect of leaving. 

“Don’t forget this.” Bronwyn handed her a jacket.

She slipped it on and pulled the hood down until it covered most of her face. “See you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

Myfanwy wrapped her arms around Bronwyn in a tight hug. “Lock up when you leave, please.”

“Of course. I’ll be right behind you.” 

They released each other after a moment, and Myfanwy grabbed her phone from the countertop, shoving it into her back pocket. Then she walked out the door, suitcase in hand. 

She waited in the lobby until a car pulled up outside. Myfanwy secured the hood safely over her head and exited the building. The driver quickly rounded the car, opening the backseat door for her and placing her suitcase in the boot. 

The drive was silent.

Myfanwy tried more than once to start a conversation with the driver, but he only gave her one-word replies. It was nearly a two and a half-hour drive to Bristol, and she didn’t have anything to occupy her mind. She played with her phone in her hands. 

The temptation to text Gestalt was strong. 

Before she could do something she’d regret, she tucked her phone safely away and rested her head against the window. She watched the traffic blur past, resisting the urge to close her eyes and fall asleep. 

When they arrived at the airport, Myfanwy stretched her arms above her head, groaning at the feel of her joints popping. The driver unloaded her suitcase, then returned to the car and drove away. 

Myfanwy frowned. 

_ Had she ever flown before?  _

Although some memories had returned the past few months, none of them consisted of her being on a plane. She sighed and picked up her luggage. The airport was busy, and Myfanwy felt confident she would blend in easily. 

Inside, she forced a relaxed smile to hide her nervousness as she checked in and went through security. She made it without incident and breathed a sigh of relief. There was still plenty of time, so she wandered to The Bookshop. 

She examined the bright, shiny book covers that lined a wall of shelves. Nearby, a child ran through the aisles laughing, his mother yelling after him. Myfanwy smiled at his exuberance and picked up a random book from the ‘Crime & Thriller’ section. It was a story about a series of unexplained child disappearances in a small Irish town. 

The premise was interesting enough, and she decided to purchase it. She stood in line as she waited for her turn to check out and noticed the store clerk staring at her. The couple in front of her walked away after paying for their items, and Myfanwy stepped forward. The clerk licked his chapped lips, looking her body up and down. 

Myfanwy glared at him harshly, and he averted his eyes. 

She paid in cash and left quickly. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure he wasn’t watching, she found a seat close to her gate and opened her book. She soon became absorbed in the pages, tuning out the sound of a crying baby and an elderly woman coughing loudly into her hands. 

After a few chapters, an announcement was made that her plane was boarding. Several people rose from their chairs, and Myfanwy fell in line behind them. On the plane, she found her seat and stored her luggage into the overhead compartment. She waited as the other passengers settled in, and listened to an older man complain to the attendant that the plane was too cold. 

Eventually, the cabin crew was able to go through the safety instructions, and Myfanwy struggled to stifle a yawn. During takeoff, she kept her eyes shut tightly and gripped the armrests, her knuckles turning white. Her stomach felt queasy until the plane leveled in the air. 

She returned to her book, distracting herself from thoughts of an engine blowing and the plane descending rapidly to the ground in a raging ball of fire. 

The only silver lining was that the flight was short. An hour later, the plane began its descent, and Myfanwy swore she would kill Bronwyn for making her fly. She refused to do this again. 

When the plane finally touched down, she relaxed her tense muscles and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. She checked the time on her phone. 

Midnight.

Her six hours were up.   
  



	4. The Meeting

A chorus of tired and irritable voices rang through the cabin as the passengers collected their overhead luggage and disembarked the plane. Myfanwy followed behind a father carrying his sleeping son, who clutched a toy giraffe in his small hand. Up ahead, a young couple laughed at some inside joke then leaned into each other for a chaste kiss.

Myfanwy felt a pang of jealousy. 

From the moment her memories were wiped, her life had been a series of do-overs. A chance to experience everything for the first time again. Her first time reading the books Gestalt insisted were her favorites. Her first time exploring the city, which her old self had always been too preoccupied with work to do. There had even been many firsts in bed. Gestalt had a lifetime’s worth of fantasies and secret longings they wished to act out now that Myfanwy was finally theirs.

It felt wrong that they weren’t with her now. 

In all her infinite research and late-night phone calls with Bronwyn, she never stopped to consider all the firsts she would experience without them during this separation. She wondered if Gestalt had given it any thought. 

They watched her with rapt attention every time she rediscovered a part of herself, long forgotten. And even though they wouldn’t admit it, she knew they were immensely relieved that the old Myfanwy, the one they fell in love with all those years ago, still lingered beneath the surface. The fear evaporated from their eyes, and they pulled her tightly against them when she made an offhand comment or expressed a preference for something that reminded them of who she used to be. 

Myfanwy sighed and pushed away the feelings of melancholy. 

With her suitcase at her side, she made her way inside Schiphol Airport to find the driver Bronwyn had arranged to take her to the safe house. She tensed up as people brushed past her, in a hurry to make their connecting flights. Deep down, she knew Gestalt was still in London, but every glimpse of slicked-back blonde hair or tracksuit sent a rush through her body. 

Her stomach growled loudly as she walked past several cafés and bars with their doors closed for the night. She hoped the safe house was fully stocked; otherwise, it was going to be a long wait until she met up with Bronwyn in the morning. 

Lost in her thoughts, she nearly missed the petite brunette holding a sign with the name of her alias, Maisie Day. The woman bit her bottom lip, scanning the room with a worried expression. Dressed in a white halter top and bright, yellow floral skirt, Myfanwy didn’t think she fit the profile of a member of the Resistance. 

As a precaution, she kept her distance and studied the woman from afar. There didn’t appear to be any indication of a weapon underneath her clothing, and her gaze didn’t flicker to anyone else to suggest she had an accomplice. Checking to make sure she wasn’t being followed, Myfanwy walked up to the woman with a tentative smile. 

“Hi, that’s me.” She pointed to the name card.

The woman smiled brightly as their eyes met and reached out to shake Myfanwy’s hand. “Hallo! I’m Sophie. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” 

“What do you mean?” Myfanwy looked at her inquisitively. 

“Bronwyn talks about you all the time!” she said matter-of-factly. She gestured to the lone suitcase at Myfanwy’s side. “Is that all you brought?”

“Yeah. How—” Myfanwy wanted to ask how she knew her sister but was interrupted by a nearby woman suddenly shouting into her phone that the airline lost her luggage. Her husband tried to calm her down, glancing nervously at the few people who looked in their direction. 

“Should we go?” Sophie gestured to the exit doors behind her. 

Myfanwy tried to hide her smirk as the woman swatted her husband’s hands away and stormed off towards the baggage claim desk. Turning her attention back to Sophie, she nodded her head and followed her outside to the car park. 

A light mist fell from the dark, overcast sky. Myfanwy shivered as she left the warmth of the building and stepped into the cool night air. The walk to the car was quiet, save for the sound of her suitcase rolling on the pavement. 

Sophie stopped in front of a silver Volkswagen Jetta and opened the boot. She stood with her hand on her hip and frowned, looking inside. Her eyes darted to Myfanwy’s suitcase, judging how much space it required, and rummaged through the back until she made enough room. She took it from Myfanwy’s outstretched hands and smiled to herself when the boot closed with a soft click. 

Myfanwy quirked an eyebrow. Inside the car, she realized why Sophie had taken so long in the boot. The floor was littered with magazines, takeaway receipts, and half-empty water bottles. The passenger seat was occupied by a backpack, its contents spilling out of the open zipper. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Sophie grimaced. She moved the backpack out of Myfanwy’s way, tossing into the backseat with a soft grunt. “I’m not much of a housekeeper.”

Myfanwy flinched at the sound of plastic crunching beneath her feet. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I told myself to clean before I picked you up, but I was so busy with school—”

“You’re a student?” Myfanwy asked.

“Ja,” Sophie sighed. “It’s taking longer than I expected, but I’m nearly done. 

“Is that where you met Bronwyn?”

Sophie snickered, shaking her head. “Bronwyn? Absolutely not!”

They backed out of the parking space and drove up to the control gate. Sophie swiped her credit card then turned right onto the road as soon as the barrier opened. 

“So where did you two meet?” Myfanwy kept her tone casual. She didn’t want her interrogation to be entirely obvious. 

“You’ll have to ask your sister that,” Sophie laughed. 

Myfanwy peered at her from the corner of her eye. It wasn’t a difficult question, so she didn’t understand why Sophie was reluctant to answer it. A moment later, the car filled with music, and Myfanwy leaned her head back against the headrest, taking in the scenery from outside the window. She had never been to the Netherlands. Or at least she didn’t think she had. 

They drove for an hour, taking various detours, before arriving at a farm cottage just outside the city center. The headlights cast the house in an eerie glow, but even in the darkness, Myfanwy could tell it had a certain charm. The stone architecture and surrounding foliage reminded her of her parents’ home. 

Sophie turned off the ignition and stepped outside, breathing in the fresh country air. She opened the backdoor and grabbed her backpack then moved to the boot, taking out Myfanwy’s suitcase as well as a duffel bag. “Are you coming?” 

“You’re staying?” Myfanwy blinked at her in confusion. 

She nodded her head. “Bronwyn asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“Of course she did,” Myfanwy mumbled, retrieving her suitcase from beside the car. “Did my sister also mention what time she’s getting here?”

“Breakfast, I guess,” Sophie shrugged. She searched her backpack pockets for the house keys and grinned in triumph when she found them. The door opened with a resounding creak, and Sophie stepped aside to allow Myfanwy to enter first. 

Under any other circumstances, Myfanwy might have suspected it was a trap, but Sophie couldn’t have been any less threatening if she tried. Myfanwy moved through the house, turning lights on along the way. There were only two bedrooms, and she wondered how the sleeping arrangement would work with three people. 

By the time Myfanwy finished exploring, she heard a teapot whistle and followed the noise to the kitchen. As she stepped into the room, Sophie was arranging two cups on the counter, a plate of pastries between them. 

“Did you pick a room?” Sophie asked. 

Myfanwy settled herself on a barstool. “No. I didn’t know if you had a preference.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” she hummed, her mouth pressed against one of the cups. She moved the plate closer to Myfanwy. “Please, help yourself.”

It was a little late for sweets, but Myfanwy was too hungry to care. She took one of the offered pastries and moaned at the rich taste on her tongue. 

“Well, I’m going to go take a hot bath.” Sophie stretched her arms above her head. “Do you need anything?” 

Myfanwy swallowed. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you in the morning then.” Sophie smiled sweetly and left the room. 

Myfanwy’s mind wandered to Gestalt. She suspected they were in her flat, rifling through her belongings and gritting their teeth that she hadn’t left behind any evidence of her whereabouts. Their next logical step would be to check the traffic feeds, and she almost felt pity for them, knowing that they would undoubtedly follow the false lead. She only wished she could see the scowl on their faces when they realized it. 

With her tea finished, Myfanwy washed the empty cup and wiped down the countertop, which was now coated in a fine layer of pastry flakes, before turning off the kitchen lights. She moved down the hall to retrieve her luggage and chose the nearest bedroom to sleep in. 

The room was sparse, occupied only by a bed and wardrobe. A large window made up one of the walls, and Myfanwy pulled the thick curtains closed. She changed into more comfortable clothes, not bothering to unpack in case she had to leave in a hurry and settled herself in the bed. 

She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

The sound of pans clanking in the kitchen woke her in the morning. Myfanwy groaned into her pillow and willed herself back to sleep, but the noise continued. Sitting up in bed, she ran her fingers through her disheveled hair and checked the time on her phone. Bleary-eyed, she blinked at the screen with a frown. 

It was almost noon. 

Myfanwy pulled back the covers and made her way to the kitchen, her bare feet softly padding on the floor. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of Bronwyn’s arms wrapped around Sophie, who stood by the stovetop. 

“You’re going to burn it,” Bronwyn teased. 

Sophie laughed. “I will if you keep distracting me!”

They hadn’t noticed her yet, so Myfanwy watched them unabashedly, a smirk playing on her lips. A minute later, Bronwyn turned around to grab a plate and jumped slightly, seeing her sister in the room. “Oh, good! You’re up. Breakfast is ready.”

“A bit late for breakfast, don’t you think?”

“It’s breakfast if I say it is,” Bronwyn grinned. “How was your flight?”

Myfanwy watched as Sophie carried a plate of food to the dining table. “It was awful.”

“Did I forget to mention you have a fear of flying?” 

“Excuse me?” Her eyes snapped to Bronwyn’s. 

“Yeah. I suppose you don’t remember the holiday we took to Spain as kids? You screamed bloody murder until you passed out. Mum and dad were mortified.” 

Myfanwy rolled her eyes. “Are there any other fears I should know about?”

“I don’t think so.” Bronwyn walked around her to join Sophie at the table. 

“When did you get in?” Myfanwy pulled back one of the chairs, sitting across from them. 

“A couple hours ago.”

“We didn’t want to wake you,” Sophie added in between bites of food.

Myfanwy wanted to ask about their relationship but stopped herself when Bronwyn gave her a warning look. Sophie looked down at her plate to butter a slice of bread, and Myfanwy used the distraction to mouth the word “later” at her sister. Bronwyn nodded her head stiffly. 

Satisfied for the moment, Myfanwy served herself a slice of bread with ham and a fried egg. She listened quietly while Bronwyn and Sophie made light conversation. After they finished eating, she cleared the table and rolled up her sleeves to wash the dishes. 

“I’d offer to help clean up, but I have a seminar in thirty minutes,” Sophie sighed, slipping on her backpack. 

“I’ll walk you out,” Bronwyn said. 

The front door closed behind them, and Myfanwy resisted the urge to eavesdrop from one of the open windows. They were gone for a suspiciously long time. Bronwyn didn’t return until Myfanwy shut the water off and set the last plate in the rack to dry. “Is she gone?”

“Let me shower first, yeah? Then we’ll talk.” Bronwyn looked at her with pleading eyes.

Myfanwy wiped her hands on a towel then threw it onto the counter with a huff. “Fine.” 

Bronwyn blew her a kiss and disappeared down the hall. 

Looking out the kitchen window, Myfanwy decided to take a stroll around the property while she waited. The sun was warm on her skin, and a slight breeze whipped tendrils of her hair against her face as she walked. A worn-down wooden fence surrounded the cottage, and Myfanwy slipped between a gap in the planks of wood to sit beneath a tree on the other side. 

She sat with her eyes closed and listened to the sounds of nature. 

“Why did you run off?”

Myfanwy looked up to find Bronwyn walking towards her. “I didn’t.” 

She lowered herself next to Myfanwy and stretched her legs out in front of her. They sat in silence, waiting for the other to speak. 

“Are you going to tell me?” 

Bronwyn’s cheeks flushed. “It’s nothing serious.”

“Sure,” Myfanwy smiled. “At least tell me how you met.”

She buried her head in her hands. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“No, I won’t.”

Bronwyn took a deep breath. “I rear-ended her.”

“What?” It was not the response Myfanwy was expecting. 

“It was a couple years ago, back when I was trying to rescue you from the Checquy. I saw you driving down the street one day, and I started to follow you. Sophie was in London, visiting friends, and I was so focused on getting to you that I wasn’t paying attention to anyone else, and I hit her.” 

Myfanwy couldn’t fight her smile. 

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not!” Myfanwy exclaimed. 

Bronwyn groaned, leaning her head back against the tree. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”

Myfanwy wanted to press her for more answers but decided it could wait. She nodded and Bronwyn visibly relaxed. 

“Did you have any issues with the documents I gave you?” 

“No,” Myfanwy replied. 

“Good. We’ll stay here a few days, keep away from the airports and tunnels, anywhere Gestalt might look for you. Then we’ll move on to—” Bronwyn paused. The phone in her back pocket started vibrating, and she checked the name on the screen. “I need to answer this. Be right back.” 

She smiled at the soft expression on her sister’s face as she turned to leave. Bronwyn could deny it all she wanted, but she was in love. 

Myfanwy knew the feeling all too well. 


	5. The Surprise

A flock of birds flew overhead. Myfanwy watched as their wings glided smoothly through the air. She envied their ability to soar the skies. They could take flight at a moment’s notice, travel to far away, unknown destinations, and leave everything else behind. It was a freedom she possessed neither in this life nor in the last. 

She played with an overgrown blade of grass, twining it around her index finger, and listened to her sister’s voice fade away. The minutes ticked by as she waited for Bronwyn to return, but after a while, her back began to ache sitting pressed up against the verdant tree.

Rising to her feet, she took in the vast fields one last time. It was so much like her childhood home; peaceful and quiet. Away from the constant barrage of city noises, she could finally hear herself think. It was the kind of place she could imagine herself settling down if her life wasn’t back in London.

With a heavy sigh, she turned to go back inside the house. She was careful not to hit her head as she stepped through the broken fence, but her foot caught on one of the splintered beams, and her hand pressed down on a protruding nail as she tried to catch her fall. 

Myfanwy gasped. “Fuck!”

A trickle of blood ran down her palm and onto her shirt, staining it crimson. She hurried to the house and threw open the front door, which creaked loudly in protest. Bronwyn leaned against the banister with her phone held firmly against her ear and watched curiously as Myfanwy ran past her. 

“We’ll meet you at seven. I don’t know. She can borrow something of mine. Yeah, okay. Bye.” Bronwyn ended the call then followed Myfanwy to the loo, peering over her shoulder as she held her hand under the tap. “What happened? I only left you alone for a few minutes.”

Myfanwy grimaced at the blood circulating the drain. “I cut my hand on the fence.”

“Please tell me you don’t need to go to hospital,” Bronwyn groaned. 

Myfanwy glared. She turned the water off and pressed a clean towel to her hand. “No, but thank you for your sisterly concern.”

“It’s not that I don’t care. It would just make it too easy for Gestalt to find you.” Bronwyn stepped to the side and began searching the cabinets.

The sound of drawers being opened and slammed shut reverberated off the tiled walls, and Myfanwy felt her irritation rising. “What are you looking for?”

“Antibiotic ointment.” Bronwyn dropped to her knees to search the bottom drawer, rummaging noisily through its contents. “Found it!”

Myfanwy took the half-empty tube from her sister’s outstretched hand and applied it liberally to the wound. Bronwyn also produced a roll of bandages, which she meticulously wrapped around her hand.

Bronwyn busied herself with rinsing the bloodied towel in the sink. “How does it feel?”

“It’s alright,” Myfanwy sighed, wincing only slightly as she moved her fingers experimentally. It stung, but the pain was manageable. 

Bronwyn hung the towel to dry then jumped onto the counter, kicking her feet against the cabinet drawers below. “Good. Because we’re going out tonight.” 

“We’re leaving already?” Myfanwy frowned.

She shook her head. “No, it’s just dinner and drinks.” 

Myfanwy looked at her sister, incredulously. “We’re not on holiday. We’re supposed to be in hiding. Not galavanting the streets of Amsterdam and getting plastered.”

“Gestalt is hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away.” Bronwyn put her hands on Myfanwy’s shoulders. “You can’t come all the way to the Netherlands and spend the whole time locked inside this house.”

“Did Sophie talk you into this?”

Bronwyn’s eyes lit up. “Is that a yes?”

“No,” Myfanwy whined, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Please? Think of all the time we’ve lost. All the nights we could have gone out for dinner and drinks if the Checquy hadn’t kept us apart. I’m only asking for one night,” she begged. 

There was some truth to her words. The time she spent alone with Bronwyn was already limited. Work kept her occupied, and most of her free time was spent with Gestalt. After years of being separated, they did have a lot of time to make up. Against her better judgment, she agreed. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” Bronwyn grinned. “We’re meeting Sophie for dinner at seven. Do you have anything to wear?”

Myfanwy thought about the plain t-shirts and jeans she packed. “No.”

“I have some extra clothes I keep stored here. We can find something for you later.” Bronwyn leapt down from the counter, her feet landing softly on the mosaic floor. “I’m going to lay down for a bit. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Can I trust you not to further maim yourself in my absence?”

“You’re hilarious,” Myfanwy replied sarcastically. She switched off the lights in the loo and followed her sister into the hallway. “I’ve been meaning to ask, though. Whose house is this?”

Bronwyn paused in the doorway to her bedroom. “It belongs to the Resistance. Rescued EVAs are placed here until we can find more permanent living situations for them. Although I probably spend more time here than anyone else.”

Myfanwy smirked. “Because of—”

Bronwyn’s expression turned horrified, and she slammed her door shut before Myfanwy could even say Sophie’s name.

Myfanwy rolled her eyes at the childish behavior and wandered back to her room. She opened the curtains, letting in the natural light, and relaxed on the bed with her book. 

She lost herself in the story. Eventually, the sky darkened, and she had to squint to make out the words, too engrossed to get up and turn on the light. As her eyes flitted over the pages, on the brink of finding out who was responsible for the child abductions, Bronwyn appeared in the room and threw a black halter dress onto the bed.

“Put that on,” she commanded. 

Myfanwy held up a finger. “Just a minute. I’m almost done with this chapter.”

Bronwyn huffed and snatched the book out of her hands. She threw it across the room, and it landed open-faced with a soft thud. “Get dressed.”

“I wasn’t finished!” Myfanwy complained.

“The book isn’t going anywhere, but we are. Now get up.” Bronwyn pulled Myfanwy to her feet then left the room in a hurry. 

Myfanwy sighed and retrieved her book from the floor, placing it next to her still-packed luggage. She unzipped one of the compartments and grabbed her small bag of toiletries to take a shower, but after only a few minutes under the hot spray, Bronwyn pounded on the door, yelling that they were going to be late. 

Wrapped tightly in a towel, she returned to her room and immediately scowled at a pair of heels lying next to the dress. Not wanting to face Bronwyn’s wrath if she wasted any more time, she hastily dressed and barely managed to fix her hair into a half-decent updo.

She found Bronwyn in the sitting room dressed casually in a pair of dark wash jeans and a low cut top. 

“Why am I wearing a dress if you’re not?” Myfanwy arched an eyebrow. 

Bronwyn pulled her eyes away from her phone. “Because you look better in it than I do. Are you ready?”

Myfanwy nodded her head, and they made their way out to Bronwyn’s rental car. They listened to music as they drove through the city, and twenty minutes later, they pulled in front of the restaurant. Sophie waited outside the glass doors and waved as soon as she spotted them. 

They held hands as they walked inside, and Myfanwy felt a brief rush of sadness that Gestalt wasn’t there to hold hers. 

The hostess confirmed their reservation and quickly seated them at a table facing the canals. The restaurant was busy, the sounds of lively conversation and clanking dinnerware filling the room. 

Distracted by the CoBrA paintings that lined the walls, Myfanwy nearly missed the waiter asking for her order. She quickly scanned the menu and chose the first entrée she saw listed. Sophie also ordered an expensive bottle of wine to go along with their meal. 

She felt out of place at first, sitting in a restaurant in Amsterdam with Bronwyn and Sophie, so far away from the only home she’d ever known. But as they ate and drank, Myfanwy found that she was actually enjoying herself. Perhaps it was the wine, or simply the absurd circumstances that brought her to Amsterdam in the first place, but she had never felt so free. A weight she wasn’t even aware she had been carrying was lifted off her shoulders. 

She felt like she could fly. 

After they finished their meal, they congregated on the sidewalk outside, laughing at a story about Sophie’s economics professor. She twirled in Bronwyn’s arms, eyes bright with wonder. “We should go dancing!”

“I don’t dance,” Myfanwy said automatically. “Or do I?”

Bronwyn laughed at her confused expression. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Sophie grinned and led them through the busy streets to a nearby nightclub. Myfanwy heard the music before the building came into view, and her body hummed with nervous excitement. It was yet another first she would experience since leaving London. 

Inside was pure chaos.

Neon strobing lights illuminated the otherwise pitch-black space. Bodies pressed against her reeking of sweat and booze. The upbeat, high tempo music blared from the speakers all around her. 

Myfanwy insisted she wasn’t nearly drunk enough to embarrass herself on the dance floor, so they forced their way through the crowd of people and ordered drinks at the bar. 

Sophie played with a lock of Bronwyn’s hair as they nursed their drinks, and Myfanwy smiled at them fondly. Over their shoulder, she noticed a man staring at her from the other end of the bar. She quickly averted her eyes, not wanting him to mistake her attention for interest, but he was already on the move. 

“Hallo, mijn naam is Stefan.”

Myfanwy looked up from her glass. “Sorry, I don’t speak Dutch.”

The man grinned. “I said my name is Stefan.”

“Maisie,” she replied. Something in his eyes told her not to trust him. Not to give up her real name.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

She held up her half-full glass. “I’m still working on this one.”

“How about a dance, then?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Go on,” Bronwyn shouted over the music. She nudged Myfanwy with her foot. “Live a little.”

“No, I’m fine right here, thanks.”

Stefan’s expression turned dark. He stared at her for a moment longer before disappearing into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Myfanwy spun around angrily to face Bronwyn. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What? He’s attractive.” She leaned forward in her seat to whisper into Myfanwy’s ear. “And he only has the one body.”

Myfanwy glowered at her sister. It wasn’t a secret Bronwyn still had reservations about Gestalt, and she knew it would take time to undo years of mistrust, but trying to set her up with another man crossed a line. 

Sophie looked between Bronwyn and Myfanwy, not understanding the sudden tension between them. She drowned the rest of her drink and slid off the barstool. “Let’s dance!”

Myfanwy really wasn’t in the mood, but she allowed Sophie to pull her to the dance floor. She desperately needed the distraction. 

The nightclub was crowded, and she narrowly avoided being struck in the side of the head by flailing arms. They found open space near the center of the room, and Myfanwy closed her eyes, letting the music consume her. Everything else fell away. 

For once, she wasn’t an agent of the Checquy. 

She wasn’t a target of the Lugat. 

She was just Myfanwy. 

A pair of hands wrapped around her hips, fingers digging into the soft material of her dress. Myfanwy smiled and twisted her body, expecting to find Bronwyn or Sophie standing behind her. 

But it was Stefan. 

He smirked devilishly and leaned down to kiss her.

Without thinking, Myfanwy slapped him across the face with her bandaged hand. Before he could even react, she slipped past him and ran towards the opposite end of the club. She collapsed against a wall, heart beating erratically in her chest and hand throbbing at her side. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she suddenly felt exceptionally sober. A shiver ran down her spine, and she had the distinct feeling she was being watched. Her eyes roamed the crowd, searching for Stefan.

At the far end of the room, across the sea of dancing bodies and flashing lights, Gestalt’s eyes met hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun. No worries, the hunt is far from over. Gestalt POV is next.


	6. The Chase

The room was cast in darkness, although a few rays of the setting sun seeped through the closed window blinds. Gestalt lay restless in bed and sighed exasperatedly as they picked up their phone to check the time. They blinked rapidly at the bright screen, groaning in frustration that only ten minutes had elapsed since the last time they looked. 

They were meant to be sleeping, but every time they shut their eyes, thoughts of worst-case scenarios flitted through their minds. Images of Myfanwy in danger, alone and scared, calling out to them for help. Images of Bronwyn holding her hostage in a bunker, brainwashing her to believe her place wasn’t with them. Images of Myfanwy choosing, all on her own, to stay on the run. 

Out of habit, they reached for Myfanwy’s spot in the center of the bed, but there was only emptiness. They longed to roam their hands down the curve of her hip, to brush away the tendrils of hair from her face and kiss her behind the ear. They wanted to stroke their fingers teasingly over her breasts until she whined needily, desperately for them to touch her where she really needed them. 

Gestalt curled their bodies around the empty space. They buried their noses into her pillow and smiled softly at the faint scent of rose oil that lingered from the previous night. 

They checked the time again. 

Four hours remained. 

It was far too long. Gestalt cursed beneath their breath for agreeing to a six-hour head start. They were already agitated, anxious to begin, and it wasn’t entirely out of fear. There was an undercurrent of excitement at the notion of hunting the woman they loved. A primal urge to claim what was theirs. 

They closed their eyes and imagined it.

They could take her by surprise. Lure her into a false sense of security and let her believe she won. They’d watch her from the distance, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal themselves. Gestalt would wrap their arms around her waist and hold her close to them. Myfanwy would struggle in their embrace until she realized it was them. She’d give them a look of frustration and disappointment, but it would quickly be replaced by euphoria at being reunited. 

Or, they could give her a fighting chance. Make their presence known and let her try to escape. A thrill shocked through their bodies at the thought of pursuing her through the city streets or the countryside. Anywhere she might lead them. After a while, they would enclose her on all sides, so there was nowhere else to run. They would stare down at her with a devilish smirk as they closed their mouths over hers. 

And then they would claim their prize. 

Gestalt’s breathing hitched at the very thought. They tossed and turned in bed, trying futilely to fall asleep. Their last chance to sleep all at once before it would be necessary for them to take shifts. 

It didn’t take long for them to give up. 

They busied themselves around the flat as they waited for the time to run out. Eliza emptied the contents of their suitcases onto the bed and packed them all over again. Teddy cleaned in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher and wiping down the already pristine countertops. Robert laid out their travel documents on the dining table to ensure everything was in order. Alex sat on the sofa with their laptop open and tried to identify every possible route Myfanwy might take. 

The options were endless. 

There were six international airports in London. Within the last hour alone, planes departed for Marseille, Dublin, Copenhagen, Zurich, Vienna, and Berlin. Although given Myfanwy’s fear of flying, it was entirely possible she’d travel to one of the ferry ports. 

Gestalt sighed and closed the numerous tabs open on their computer. They would check the CCTV footage outside of Myfanwy’s building as soon as the six hours expired. Their best bet would be to track her movements via surveillance while they still had access to it. 

They waited with bated breath as the remaining hours passed. 

Time seemed to be at a standstill, each minute ticking by slower than the last. It wasn’t until the stroke of midnight that they breathed a collective sigh of relief as they were finally able to leave. They rushed out of their flat, suitcases in hand, and promised themselves that they wouldn’t return without Myfanwy. 

They were alone in the lift as they descended to the lobby, and Gestalt was infinitely grateful. They didn’t have the patience to wait for anyone else. The doors opened with a ding, and they hurried to the car park. Outside, Teddy stepped into the driver’s seat and set course for Myfanwy’s flat, and the others pulled out their tablets. Robert logged into the traffic feeds and reviewed the footage starting from the moment they dropped her off while Alex and Eliza reviewed all the available information on Bronwyn. Their government clearance gave them access to known associates and aliases as well as her visa and travel history.

An hour into the surveillance footage, a black SUV pulled up outside the building, and Myfanwy hurried into the backseat while the driver situated her luggage in the boot. 

Gestalt frowned. 

It was peculiar that she kept her face covered. 

They ran the vehicle's plates and found that it was registered to a car service in London. They could save themselves the trouble of following the car’s route through CCTV and simply call the agency to ask where the passenger was taken. An early win. 

Teddy parked the car and punched the number into his phone as the others climbed out to inspect the inside of Myfanwy’s flat. Security at the front desk nodded at them as soon as they stepped into the lobby. Gestalt had been there often enough over the years, especially in recent months, that they had no issue getting past him. 

They clambered into the lift and pressed the button to Myfanwy’s floor. A few minutes later, they stood outside her door and paused before sliding the keycard into the reader. It felt wrong to be there without her. To search through her belongings without her express permission. Gestalt rationalized that they would have torn her flat apart without a moment’s hesitation if she really had disappeared all those months ago. They would have left no stone unturned in their desperation to find her. 

They unlocked the door. 

The flat was dark, quiet. Gestalt turned on the lights as they moved through the space. Eliza started in the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and drawers. There was an assortment of receipts and ticket stubs in one of the top drawers, which she examined meticulously, hoping for the slightest clue as to Myfanwy’s whereabouts. 

Alex made a beeline for the panic room, typing in the code from memory. He rifled through the contents of her desk while he waited for the computer to turn on. There were several old work files, but nothing that pertained to her location. Once the home screen popped up, he checked the search history, recent documents, even deleted files. Everything was wiped. 

In the bedroom, Robert examined the contents of Myfanwy’s wardrobe. Numerous hangers hung bare on the rack. Too many. 

Gestalt swallowed thickly. 

She only needed enough clothes to last a week. It looked like she packed for much longer. Robert searched the pockets of the remaining garments, but they were all empty. He moved onto the cabinets by the windows, flipping through the pages of books that he found inside. Nothing hidden in there either. 

The bed was immaculately made. Gestalt reckoned it had been days since Myfanwy actually slept in it since she spent most nights at their flat. Robert flipped the mattress to look underneath. Still nothing. 

Behind the headboard. 

Beneath the bed. 

There wasn’t anything to be found. 

He moved into the adjoining loo and opened the medicine cabinet. The shelves were mostly scarce. Robert turned to exit the room, but something caught his eye. At the bottom of the bin by the door, there was a crumpled piece of paper. Robert unfolded the note and quickly read the words written in Myfanwy’s neat script. 

_ Dear You, _

_ I know you’ve had your doubts about this. You’ve done your best to hide it, but I understand it’s brought up feelings from the past. It wasn’t so long ago my attempts to flee the Checquy — and you — were real. Twice, I’ve tried to run from who I am. What I am. And twice I’ve failed.  _

_ Several factors contributed to those failures. The Lugat. Nazim. Farrier.  _

_ But, even if everything had gone according to plan and I left with my sister to start a new life, I know I would have found my way back to you. If Old Myfanwy loved you half as much as I do, she would have stopped at nothing.  _

_ This is not goodbye. I promise.  _

_ I’ll be home soon.  _

_ With love,  _

_ Myfanwy _

Gestalt took a shaky breath and read the letter a second time. The words were meant to be reassuring, but what did it mean that it had been tossed in the bin? Did Myfanwy regret writing it? Did she change her mind about coming back? 

Downstairs, the car service informed Teddy that Myfanwy had been dropped off at the Port of Dover. He ended the call and plugged the address into the navigation system while the rest of Gestalt finished in the flat, returning everything to its proper place. Robert carefully folded the letter and placed it inside his jacket pocket for safekeeping. 

As quickly as they arrived, they left. 

They almost made it out of the building, but a voice suddenly called out from behind them. “Enjoy your holiday!” 

Gestalt turned to look at the cheery security guard. 

“What do you mean?” Eliza backtracked to the front desk.

The man’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry! I saw Myfanwy and her friends leave earlier this evening with suitcases. I assumed you were here to collect something they’d forgotten.”

“Friends?” Alex asked. “Who were they? What did they look like?”

“How many?” Robert demanded. 

“Three, I think. All women. I’ve never seen any of them before today.” The guard looked nervously between them. 

“Do you know their names?”

His eyes flickered to his computer screen. “I’m not supposed to give out that information to the public.”

“Please?” Eliza smiled at him sweetly. 

The guard cleared his throat and typed something into the system. “Bronwyn Thomas checked in at 1:08 this afternoon, and Olivia Brooks and Charlotte Ross at 6:13 this evening.”

Bronwyn Thomas. 

Gestalt clenched their fists at their sides and exited the building without another word. They stepped inside the car and reviewed the CCTV footage on all four tablets. 

The guard was right. 

Around one o’clock, a nondescript car pulled in front of the building, and Bronwyn emerged from inside. She walked into the building with a black suitcase, checking over her shoulder to see if she had been followed. And shortly after six o’clock, two women Gestalt didn’t recognize, entered the building also carrying matching black suitcases. 

Fucking hell. 

Gestalt watched as the woman they assumed was Myfanwy left the premises. However, after a few minutes, another SUV pulled up, and second woman wearing Myfanwy’s clothes exited the building. They fast-forwarded through the footage and discovered two other instances of lookalikes leaving in SUVs. 

They watched the feed over and over again, but because the women’s faces were hidden, they couldn’t say with absolute certainty which one was Myfanwy. 

Teddy called the car service again and requested information on the three additional plates. Gestalt rolled their eyes as they were put on hold. They chewed on their thumbnails anxiously while they waited. 

Eventually, they learned the second car was driven to Heathrow Airport, the third car to Bristol Airport, and the fourth car to King’s Cross railway station. 

Bristol Airport. 

Gestalt knew instantly that Myfanwy was taken to Bristol Airport. It was too obvious. Bronwyn always tried so desperately to piss them off, and she’d finally succeeded. They didn’t need any reminders of Myfanwy’s old therapist. His obscene methods had given them enough nightmares, and after what he’d done to Myfanwy, they wanted nothing more than to kill him. 

They adjusted the navigation system and drove white-knuckled out of London. It was nearly a two and a half hour trip, so Gestalt kept themselves busy by studying Bronwyn’s file. She traveled frequently, all throughout Europe and parts of Asia. There wasn’t a discernible pattern, except for her visits to the Netherlands. Over the past two years, she’d made more than a dozen trips to Amsterdam.

Gestalt also ran background checks on the names of the women the security guard had given them. There wasn’t any particularly useful information in the database. Brooks was listed as a primary school teacher and Ross a paralegal at a reputable law firm. 

Decoys. 

They should have known Bronwyn would play dirty. 

Gestalt relaxed in their seats, content at least with the knowledge that hadn’t fallen for her ploy. They were already ahead of schedule. They turned off their tablets and stared out the car windows for the remainder of the drive.

Two hours later, they pulled into Bristol Airport and parked their car at the long-stay parking. Their hearts raced as they stepped inside the building. They knew Myfanwy intended to travel under an alias, which made it all the more difficult to track her. It wouldn’t be as easy as flashing their identification and demanding to know which plane she boarded. They wished their tablets had remote access to the facial recognition software they used at the office. 

Gestalt settled for checking the recent departures. 

Brussels. 

Glasgow. 

Barcelona. 

Prague.

Rome.

Dublin. 

Amsterdam. 

Fucking Amsterdam. 

Gestalt purchased four tickets, but the next available flight wasn’t for several hours. They located their gate and found seats far from the other waiting passengers. At the far side of the room, a man sprawled himself across a row of chairs and snored soundly. 

Sleep beckoned them as well. 

They allowed each body to sleep for a couple hours while the others kept watch. By the time the sun was high in the sky and the airport lively with new travelers, Gestalt felt significantly more rested. They stretched in their seats and habitually checked their phones to see if there were any messages from Myfanwy. 

Of course, there weren’t any. 

A wave of disappointment washed over them. 

An announcement was made that the plane was boarding, and Gestalt pushed those feelings aside. As they found their seats and stored their overhead luggage, they imagined what Myfanwy experienced, flying for the first time since her memories were wiped. They frowned at the thought of her being alone. 

An hour later, the plane touched down at Schiphol Airport, and Gestalt strategized where next to search for Myfanwy. They forced their way through the crowd of people inside and made their way toward the car rental agency. Myfanwy might have flown into the country all on her own, but Bronwyn was assuredly close behind. One of them must have rented a car. 

They sent Alex inside by himself, a queue of people already waiting. It took a while to make it to the front desk, and even longer to convince the clerk to accept a monetary bribe to admit that he didn’t recognize the picture of Myfanwy on Gestalt’s phone, but he did rent a car to Bronwyn earlier that morning. Alex slipped a few additional notes into the clerk’s hand and was quickly given an address and phone number. 

Gestalt grinned. 

After renting their own car, they sat in the car park and entered Bronwyn’s phone number into their tablets. It wasn’t technically cheating. They agreed that they wouldn’t track Myfanwy’s phone, but they didn’t say anything about her sister’s. Given her unwarranted use of decoys, they felt that they were simply evening the playing field. 

The only issue was that by the time Gestalt pulled in front of the cottage, they were on the move. Before they followed the signal, Gestalt stopped to search inside the house. They didn’t want to waste their time on a false lead. But it was immediately obvious they were in the right place. 

In the first bedroom, they saw Myfanwy’s clothes scattered across the floor. They smiled, seeing a book laying on top of her suitcase. Even on the run, she found the time to read. 

Satisfied with their discovery, they returned to the car and traced Bronwyn’s phone to a restaurant in the city. Gestalt parked a few streets over and made their way toward them. Adrenaline pumped in their veins, and they bit back a laugh. It was too easy.

However, as they neared the restaurant, the signal moved once again. They followed it South and came to a stop in front of a nightclub. 

A fucking nightclub. 

Gestalt shook their heads and forced their way into the chaos. The music blared sharply in their ears, and the strobing lights blinded their eyes as they searched for Myfanwy. Dancing bodies gyrated all around them. A woman who reeked of cigarettes and vodka ran her hand down Alex’s bicep and tried to pull him to the dance floor. He ripped his arm out of her hold and glared at her until she scurried off. 

They couldn’t find Myfanwy anywhere. 

The club was too tightly packed. They spread themselves out; Teddy on the balcony, Eliza by the bar, Alex near the exit, and Robert close to the dance floor. 

And then she was there. 

Carefree and beautiful, she threw her head back and smiled as she swayed to the music. 

But she wasn’t alone. 

A pair of hands settled on her hips, and an unfamiliar man backed her up until her arse was pressed firmly against his groin. Fury coursed through them. But before they could even move, Myfanwy turned around and slapped him across the face. They watched as the grin fell from his face, and he pressed a hand to his stinging flesh. 

Pride swelled in their chests. They wanted to see Myfanwy’s reaction, but she was gone. It wasn’t until a flash of black in their peripheral vision caught their attention that they found her. It was too late, though. As they turned to look at her, she did the same, and their eyes met across the room. 


	7. The Blackout

It was the calm before the storm. 

The rest of the world fell away, and there was only Gestalt. The blaring music, the flashing lights, the dancing bodies slick with sweat pressed up against her—it all ceased to exist. They were lost in the depths of each other’s eyes, unable to think or say anything. Unable to move from their respective sides of the room. 

Myfanwy tried to blink them away. She was convinced it was nothing but an alcohol-induced figment of her imagination. It was the only logical answer. Unless Stefan somehow slipped drugs into her drink. She was under the influence of something because it wasn’t possible for Gestalt to find her already. 

“Myfanwy!”

Myfanwy’s attention snapped to the right. She frowned at the sight of Bronwyn shoving her way through the crowd, ignoring the curses of a woman whose foot she had stepped on. She glanced nervously over her shoulder as she made her way to her sister. Myfanwy raised a hand to show Bronwyn what she’d seen, to ask if they were really there or if it was all in her head, but by the time she turned back, they were gone. Vanished, as if they were never there, to begin with. A wave of relief washed over her, and she let out a breath she’d been holding.

“Myf!” Bronwyn appeared at her side and wrapped her fingers tightly around her wrist, pulling her away from the wall. “We need to leave right now!”

The words didn’t make sense at first. She didn’t understand the urgency in Bronwyn’s voice or the sharp sting of Bronwyn’s nails in her skin as she led her toward the exit. Myfanwy shook free of Bronwyn’s hold, refusing to take another step forward without an explanation. “What’s going on?”

Bronwyn shot her a look of irritation, but she didn’t think it was directed at her. “Gestalt’s here!” she yelled over the music. 

The blood in her veins turned to ice. 

Two simple words. There was no denying the meaning of those two words. No hidden context. No double entendre. There was no trace of humor in her tone. No sign that it was all an elaborate joke at her expense. No reason to believe that it was a lie. 

Gestalt’s here.

It wasn’t her mind playing tricks after all. 

A surge of emotions rushed through her body, and her EVA instantly sparked to life. The strobe lights mounted in the rafters above them flickered before dying out completely, casting half the nightclub in darkness. A high pitched scream rang out, followed by laughter. 

Bronwyn looked up at the burnt-out lights with a thoughtful expression. “Can you do that again?”

“What?” Myfanwy asked distractedly, searching for Gestalt’s faces among the unfamiliar. 

“Turn off the lights,” Bronwyn said exasperatedly. “Kill the power to the whole fucking building. I don’t care. Can you do it?”

Myfanwy turned to meet her eyes. “You want me to use my EVA? Are you mad?”

“You’ve got about ten seconds to decide.” Bronwyn scowled over her shoulder. “They’re right behind you.”

Ten seconds. 

It wasn’t a lot of time, but it was enough. Consequences be damned. She refused to give up so easily, to forfeit the game so quickly. 

Myfanwy concentrated on the electric current that was always sizzling beneath the surface. Her fingers curled at her sides, and the skin over her knuckles turned bone-white as she tried desperately to remain in control. And then she let go.

It was a shock to her senses, the sudden deprivation of light and sound. Only a few lit phone screens illuminated the otherwise pitch-black nightclub. In the deafening silence, angry voices called out in Dutch demanding to know what happened.

“Let’s go!” Bronwyn hissed. 

She reached out her hand and pulled Myfanwy blindly through the crowd. They stumbled into bodies with each step, and her heart raced each time fingers brushed against her body. More than once, she felt as though someone was breathing down her neck, and she twisted around to find no one there. 

An announcement was made at the stage, and although she didn’t understand the language, the intent was clear as groans sounded all around her, and bodies began moving toward the front of the club. Bronwyn gripped her hand tighter and led her in the opposite direction to the back of the building.

Several people turned on the torches on their phones to guide their way out, and Myfanwy caught a glimpse of Teddy on the balcony as the light passed over him. The air rushed out her lungs at the sight of him, and she waited for him to turn and look at her, too. But he didn’t. He leaned over the banister, his hands clenching the metal so tightly she thought it might bend from the force, and scanned the room with a frustrated expression. 

Bronwyn pulled her away from the dance floor and down a secluded hallway. She pressed her free hand to the wall to feel her way forward. Myfanwy’s foot tripped at the corner of the wall, but she caught herself before she fell. 

“Where are we going?” she whispered. 

“Back exit,” Bronwyn replied. “I saw Gestalt as soon as they walked into the club and sent Sophie ahead to get her car. She’s meeting us in the alley.” 

“How the hell are they even here?”

Bronwyn collided with something, and it crashed to the floor with a bang. “Shit! I don’t know, Myf. They should be in Spain or Italy. Even if they figured out we used decoys and tracked us to Amsterdam, they shouldn’t have been able to find you this quickly. They shouldn’t have known to look for you in a fucking nightclub.”

Myfanwy stepped carefully over the item Bronwyn knocked down. A box, perhaps. “Do you even know where you’re going? You could be leading us to a dead end.” 

Bronwyn snickered. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to sneak out of this place.”

She wanted to ask but thought better of it. 

A minute later, they turned down another hallway, and at the far end, Bronwyn pushed open the door to the alley. They hurried out into the cool, night air, closing the door behind them with a resounding click. Myfanwy blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light. 

Bronwyn pressed her palm to her forehead and looked around the alley. “Sophie’s here. Come on!”

Myfanwy ran as best she could in the heels, mindful not to roll an ankle. Bronwyn made it to the car first, speaking softly to Sophie before slipping into the driver’s seat. Sophie nodded her head and took a step back to lean against the brick wall of the building. 

She smiled sadly at Myfanwy. “Be safe.”

“You’re not coming?” Myfanwy paused outside the car. 

“No,” Sophie sighed. “I have to stay behind.”

Myfanwy understood her disappointment. She thought of herself in Victor Danilov’s loo all those months ago. Poised and ready for action, but ordered to stand down. She knew all too well the feeling of being underestimated. She stepped away from the car and wrapped Sophie in her arms. “Thank you. For everything.”

Sophie smiled. “You’re very welcome.”

After a moment, Myfanwy slid into the passenger seat and felt a bit remorseful at their sudden departure. They weren’t meant to leave for a few days, and she suspected if everything had gone according to plan, Sophie would have accompanied them to the next safe house. 

Bronwyn wordlessly started the car and pulled out of the alley without a backward glance. Myfanwy had to look, though. She wanted to see if Sophie would run after them or if Gestalt would appear from the back exit. They didn’t. 

They sped through the streets back to the cottage. Bronwyn’s eyes occasionally flickered to the mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed. Myfanwy shifted in her seat, the sound of plastic bottles rustling beneath her feet, filling the car. She played over Bronwyn’s words about Gestalt finding them at the club.

It shouldn’t have been that easy. 

Even with every Checquy resource at their disposal, they never completed manhunts that quickly. It could take days, weeks, months to sort through CCTV footage and passenger manifests. Unless…no. 

Absolutely not. 

Gestalt promised they wouldn’t trace her phone. But, they didn’t promise they wouldn’t trace Bronwyn’s. 

“Give me your phone!” she demanded. 

Bronwyn frowned. “Why?”

Myfanwy rolled her eyes and reached over to search her pockets. “That’s how they found us. They tracked your fucking phone.”

“It’s a burner! Besides, you said—”

“I know!” she huffed. “Don’t ask me how they got your number. But, technically, they aren’t breaking any rules. I never specified they couldn’t track _ your _ phone. I’m not sure why they’re in such a hurry, though. We still have six days.”

Bronwyn bit her bottom lip. 

“What?” Myfanwy raised an eyebrow. 

“Nothing!” Bronwyn replied too quickly. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to Myfanwy. “Here.”

Myfanwy held her own phone in her left hand, dreading the inevitable conversation she’ll have with Ingrid about how she lost her phone again. With a heavy sigh, she threw both phones out of the passenger window, watching as they rolled beneath the tires of the car in the next lane. 

A few minutes later, they pulled up outside the cottage and waited to see if there was any sign of life inside. A flicker of a curtain, a creaking of the door. The lights were all turned off, and there weren’t any other cars parked out front. It was eerily quiet. 

Bronwyn unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ll get the luggage. Wait in the car and keep the doors locked.”

Myfanwy opened her mouth to protest, but she hadn’t actually seen all of Gestalt at the nightclub. Only Robert and Teddy. At least one of them might have been waiting inside. There was no reason to think the safe house was still secure. It only made sense that they’d find her hideout first. 

Bronwyn stepped out of the car and quickly closed the door. She studied the gravel for a moment, shaking her head. “They’ve already been here. These tire tracks aren’t mine.” 

Myfanwy sat at the edge of her seat as Bronwyn disappeared into the house. Her heart leapt every time a light turned on, and she half-expected Gestalt to come running out. She didn’t think she could be held accountable for her actions if she saw them now. Although she didn’t dare show it in front of Bronwyn, she was pissed about the tracking.

The only satisfaction was that it failed. Spectacularly. 

She envisioned them back at the club standing guard at the exits and searching through all the rooms. Of course, they’d return to the cottage, but it would be too late. She would be long gone, and they’d be back to square one.

The front door slammed shut, startling Myfanwy from her thoughts. Bronwyn twisted the key in the lock then brought their suitcases to the boot. The car rocked gently as she arranged the luggage in the back. Myfanwy smirked, recalling how long it took for Sophie to situate her lone suitcase in there earlier that morning. The smile fell from her face as she realized she only arrived less than a day ago. She thought she’d have more time to explore the cottage that reminded her so much of her childhood home. It had been there all day, a long-forgotten memory she wished to recover. 

The boot finally closed, and Bronwyn wiped her hands across her jeans before opening the driver’s side door. “I’m really going to miss my rental.” 

Myfanwy laughed. “We’re keeping Sophie’s car? Is that the best decision?”

“I didn’t want to risk Gestalt tracking us through the GPS, or even the plates. Those arseholes at the rental agency probably said something,” Bronwyn growled. “They don’t know we have Sophie’s car, so we should be in the clear.”

They backed out of the drive, the cottage disappearing in the darkness. 

“Was there any sign Gestalt had been in the house?”

Bronwyn shrugged. “I didn’t see anything. Nothing seemed to be missing or out of place, but I’m sure they were there. Those tire tracks didn’t belong to Sophie’s car or my rental. And I highly doubt Gestalt came all the way to the house and let a locked door deter them.”

Myfanwy knew she was right. 

They turned left at the end of the drive, casting one last look at Amsterdam in the distance. 

“Hamburg, right?” Myfanwy asked. 

Bronwyn tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. It’s going to be a long night.”

They drove in a comfortable silence out of the city, but as the miles stretched between Myfanwy and Gestalt, her heart broke just a little bit more. 


	8. The Breakdown

Shimmering stars lit up the night sky. The constellation Orion peeked out from behind a solitary cloud, and an ominous feeling washed over Myfanwy. She stared out of the dust-coated window, replaying the events of the last day in her head. 

They planned every detail meticulously, discussed every possible scenario. And it was all for nothing. It was all a wasted effort because Gestalt pushed the limits of their contract. It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t her phone that they traced—it still felt like a betrayal. Do Not Track Myfanwy’s Phone written in big, bold letters. It was one of the few conditions she set, and they didn’t respect her enough to abide by it. 

And as much as she hated to admit it, their behavior made her question whether she could really trust them. 

The lies, the deceit, the deception—it was second nature to them. A skill learned over a lifetime that enabled them to do their job effectively. But they never lied to each other. They didn’t keep secrets. Secrets nearly destroyed them once already, and they refused to let it happen again. They made that explicitly clear when they chose to be together. 

Even worse was the feeling that it was her fault. The sense that she should have seen it coming. She knew Gestalt better than anyone, so how did she miss it? How did she not know?

In the months following the siege of Viktor Danilov’s house, she’d worked tirelessly to prove her worth as a Checquy asset, to earn the title of field agent, which her predecessor had expressly rejected. But she had failed spectacularly by falling for Gestalt’s tricks. It was such an obvious loophole, the only explanation was that it had been their plan from the very beginning. And she had absolutely no idea. 

She believed their lies. 

They agreed to her conditions, signed their signature at the bottom of her contract, and the entire time they were plotting to track Bronwyn’s phone anyway. Gestalt had lied right to her face. 

_ What did it say about her that she could be fooled so easily?  _

_ Was it a sign that she wasn’t suited for the Checquy? Or, perhaps a sign that Gestalt wasn’t who she thought they were? _

The drive to Hamburg was silent as Myfanwy contemplated her shortcomings over the past few weeks. She let out the occasional long, drawn-out sigh of exasperation, but didn’t bother trying to explain her feelings to her sister. Bronwyn shot her an irritated look each time, though she didn’t say a word either. Myfanwy thought it was for the best. A cacophony of emotions was waging a war inside of her, and she didn’t want Bronwyn to be caught in the crossfire when she finally snapped.

They had been on the A1 motorway for less than two hours. The stretch of endless road was surrounded by vast fields as far as the eye could see. Myfanwy’s eyes grew tired, watching the monotony of the scenery blur past them, and she was on the brink of falling asleep when a rattling sound suddenly filled the small space. 

“What the fuck?” Bronwyn exclaimed.

Myfanwy shot up in her seat. “Did you hit something?”

“We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere,” Bronwyn said, gripping the steering wheel tightly in her hands. “There’s nothing _ to _ hit for miles.”

A plume of smoke began to rise out of the hood of the car, obstructing their view of the road ahead. The lights from the headlamps dimmed then died completely. 

“Pull over before you get us killed!” Myfanwy demanded, bracing one hand on the dashboard and the other on the door. 

Bronwyn cursed under her breath but did as she was told. They came to a stop along the shoulder, and Myfanwy leapt out to stand a safe distance away from it. A strong fishy odor emitted from under the bonnet, and Bronwyn covered her nose with the back of her hand as she rounded the car to stand next to Myfanwy. “That smells disgusting.”

They were alone on the dark road, not a single vehicle in sight. A shiver racked through Myfanwy’s body, but she didn’t know if it was from the cold or the direness of their situation.

“Tonight has been an absolute disaster,” she sighed. 

“Feel free to blame Gestalt for this, too. If they hadn’t spoiled everything, I’d still have my rental.”

Myfanwy felt a twinge of anger at the comment but took a deep, calming breath. She didn’t want to fight with her sister while they were stranded on the side of the road. “You know anything about fixing cars?”

“A bit,” Bronwyn admitted, looking at the car skeptically. “We’ll have to wait until the smoke clears, though. Fuck! I told Sophie a month ago to take her car into the shop when it was giving her trouble. But did she listen? No! And now we might be stuck here.”

Myfanwy snickered, some of the tension leaving her body. “You sound like an old married couple.”

Bronwyn’s expression soured. “That’s not funny.”

She rolled her eyes and smoothed back her dress to sit on the ground. The gravel was sharp beneath the thin material, but her feet ached from wearing heels all night. Bronwyn lowered herself to sit beside her. She rested her head on Myfanwy’s shoulder, and they watched as their only means of escape seemingly burned right before their eyes. 

When the smoke finally dissipated, Bronwyn tied her hair back and pushed herself to stand. She covered her fingers with the hem of her shirt before lifting the bonnet. Then, she squinted at something inside. “Can you check the boot for a torch? I thought I saw one in there earlier.”

“Yeah,” Myfanwy answered. 

The boot was filled to capacity, and she had to haul both suitcases out onto the pavement before she could even begin searching through all the clutter. 

It was strange to examine the contents of someone’s life without them knowing. Everything inside the boot told a story about Sophie. The unused gym bag. The flannel blanket with frayed edges. The old economics textbook that had a coffee ring stain on the cover. Myfanwy shuffled through several half-empty bottles of sunscreen and shopping bags until she found the torch buried in the back. 

The bright light nearly blinded her as she tested the switch. Myfanwy closed the boot with a soft click and walked back to the front of the car. She handed Bronwyn the torch, the light bobbing between them. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Bronwyn said.

Myfanwy watched over her shoulder as she worked, offering the occasional nod and hum in agreement, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking at. Car maintenance was still an unchecked item on her list of things to relearn after her memory was wiped. 

Bronwyn stepped back from the car and wiped her hands on her trousers. “The serpentine belt is broken,” she sighed.

“Can you fix it?” Myfanwy asked, hopefully.

Bronwyn shook her head. “We’re not going anywhere without a new one. And there’s no telling if the car would even run if we had a replacement. The engine might have overheated.”

“So, we’re completely fucked.”

Bronwyn’s eyes fixated on something in the distance. She raised her arms above her head and began waving them. “Not yet. Look, someone’s coming this way.”

Myfanwy turned to look behind her. The headlamps of an incoming car illuminated the road as it sped in their direction. For a brief moment, she thought the car was going to drive right past them, but at the last second, it slowed and came to a stop. 

“We’re saved,” Bronwyn said, relieved. “Thank fuck for that.”

A moment later, the driver’s side door opened and a man stepped out.

Myfanwy’s first thought was that he looked ragged. Wrinkled dress shirt unbuttoned at the wrists, and a messy mop of black hair that hung over his eyes. The man smiled at them assuredly. “Car trouble?”

“Serpentine belt broke,” Bronwyn replied.

The man shut his door and walked toward them. The headlamps on his car cast an eerie shadow on the pavement as he approached. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Sure. It never hurts to have a second opinion,” Bronwyn muttered. She rolled her eyes and mouthed “arsehole” as soon as the man’s back was turned.

“You’re right about the belt,” the man said after a minute. “Looks like you are leaking coolant, too. You’ll need to have your car towed to a repair shop.”

“Do you know if there’s one close by?” Myfanwy asked. 

The man folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the car. His eyes raked up and down her body, then settled on hers. There was something unreadable about his expression. “The closest one is in Bathmen, about 10 miles back. They’ll be closed for the night, though.” 

“What about a hotel?” Bronwyn countered, turning back to face Myfanwy. “We could get some sleep at least, and I’ll use their phone to ring someone to come get us in the morning.”

The man looked between them. “I have a phone if you need to borrow it.” 

“Yes! Thank you,” Bronwyn said quickly. “Mine died rather unexpectedly.” 

He quirked an eyebrow at Myfanwy. “Yours too?”

She stared at the gleam of a signet ring on his right hand and nodded stiffly. Something about her reaction amused the man, and he grinned as he pulled his phone from his pocket. 

“I’ll just be a minute,” Bronwyn promised, taking the phone. She walked a few meters down the road away from them.

“I’m Felix, by the way,” the man said. 

“Maisie,” Myfanwy replied. “That’s my sister, Vera.”

Felix put his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock at his feet. It disappeared into the darkness. “Where are you two going?”

She tried to think of what cities were nearby. There was no point in telling him their real destination. “We’re visiting our grandparents in Kassel.”

“Bit late to be driving, isn’t it?” 

Myfanwy narrowed her eyes at Felix. “I could say the same to you.”

He smirked. “Fair enough. I was called into work.”

“What do you—”

“I found us a ride,” Bronwyn interrupted. She gave Felix back his phone then looked at him expectantly. “Hotel?”

Felix nodded. “There’s one a few miles up ahead. Let me move some things in my car, and I’ll take you.”

Bronwyn rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “That would be great.”

Myfanwy glared at her sister as Felix walked back to his car. “Are you mad? We can’t leave with him, Bronwyn. He could be dangerous.”

“We can’t stay out here either.” Bronwyn huffed into her hands. “It’s fucking cold.”

“Women don’t get into cars with strange men in the middle of the night. Especially not while they’re in a foreign country,” Myfanwy hissed.

“If he tries anything, you can just use your EVA. Nothing is going to happen, though,” Bronwyn promised.

Myfanwy groaned. “What about Sophie’s car?”

“My contact will take care of it.”

“Do you want to bring these suitcases?” Felix called out from behind their car. “I can put them in my boot.”

Myfanwy hadn’t realized they were still sitting on the pavement. She never put them back after searching for the torch.

“Yeah,” Bronwyn said. “Thanks.”

Myfanwy frowned but followed Bronwyn to the car. As her hand closed over the door handle, she noticed Felix seemed to be studying the luggage tag on her suitcase. “Everything okay?”

Felix’s head snapped to hers. “Yeah. Of course.”

She watched as he put her suitcase next to Bronwyn’s then closed the boot. Bronwyn shrugged beside her and slipped into the passenger's seat. Myfanwy waited until Felix opened the driver’s side door before sitting in the back. 

As they pulled onto the road, Myfanwy cast one last look at Sophie’s car. There was a part of her that felt guilty for leaving it behind. After everything Sophie had done for her, she deserved better than having her car abandoned on the side of the road. 

She listened as Felix and Bronwyn conversed upfront. Her sister made up story after story of their childhood in Manchester: the pet cat they had despite their father’s allergies, the work their mother did as a school teacher before quitting to be a stay at home mum, the hit and run that claimed the lives of both their parents only a few years ago. 

Felix shared his own stories of dropping out of university and deciding to join the family business. Myfanwy was going to ask again what he did for a living when the fluorescent lights of the hotel sign came into view. 

It was the shadiest establishment she’d ever seen. 

The white paint was badly chipped, revealing the blood-red wood underneath. Blades of overgrown grass stretched high up the sides of the building. And broken glass was littered across the ground in front of the office.

“Is this it?” Bronwyn’s voice dripped with derision. 

Felix hummed deep in his throat.

Bronwyn turned in her seat to look at Myfanwy. “Wait here. I’ll see if they have any vacancies.”

Myfanwy opened her mouth to protest, but Bronwyn was already out the door. With a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest and watched her sister disappear inside the office. 

Felix pulled out his phone and began to text. 

Overcome by curiosity, Myfanwy leaned forward to look over his shoulder, but before she could read anything, Felix sent the message, and the screen turned black.

Bronwyn returned a moment later, holding a brass key in her hand. She waved for Myfanwy to get out of the car. “Lucky us. Every room is available.”

Myfanwy raised an eyebrow. “Does that honestly surprise you?”

Felix made his way to the boot and pulled their suitcases out. Myfanwy reached to take hers from him, but he didn’t let go. She looked up at him in question, and he finally released it. “Sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet. “Wasn’t sure you had it.”

Bronwyn grabbed her luggage from beside the car. “Thanks again. Have a safe trip to Berlin.”

Felix nodded. “You too.”

Bronwyn led her to their room and unlocked the door after a brief struggle with the key. She flipped on the light to reveal a queen-sized bed, a round wooden table with a single chair, and an old box TV. While she explored the adjoining bath, Myfanwy pulled back the window curtain and watched as Felix turned onto the road. 

“Under no circumstances should you use that shower,” Bronwyn warned as she walked out of the loo. “I think there’s a new species of fungus growing in there.”

“Did we really have to stay here? We could have gone back to the car.”

Bronwyn studied the fist-sized hole in the wall beside the bed. “It’s too late now. Heinrich will be here in a few hours. We might as well try to get some sleep.”

“When do you think this was last washed?” Myfanwy gestured to the bedding. 

Bronwyn made a face. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Myfanwy changed into a pair of trousers and a jacket, trying to cover as much skin as she could before lying on the bed. Bronwyn turned off the light then slipped onto the bed next to her. She rolled onto her side, resting her head on her arm. “Goodnight, Myf.”

“Night,” Myfanwy whispered. 

The sun streaming through the thin curtain woke her in the morning. Her face was buried in the stale-smelling sheets, and she wrinkled her nose at the small stain on the corner of her pillowcase. She reached blindly behind her to shake Bronwyn awake, but her side of the bed was empty.

“Bronwyn?” she rasped. 

No response. 

Myfanwy stretched her arms above her head, then she slipped off the bed to push open the slightly ajar door to the loo. There was no sign of her in there either. Myfanwy unzipped her suitcase and grabbed a pair of shoes to search outside when she heard Bronwyn’s hushed voice on the other side of the hotel door. 

“She’s not ready! No. I know. I’m working on it.” There was a long pause, followed by a thud against the wall. “Tell him to wait. I need more time. Yeah. Right, bye.”

Myfanwy pressed her ear to the door as she listened. She waited for another voice to speak or the sound of feet shuffling away, but there was only silence. Then, the door was suddenly thrown open. Bronwyn looked stunned to see her standing there. “Oh, you’re up. I was going to let you sleep until my contact arrived.”

“Who were you talking to?” she asked suspiciously. 

Bronwyn busied herself with picking up her clothes off the floor and packing them into her suitcase. “Hmm? Oh, it was a work call. Nothing to worry about.”

Myfanwy frowned. “Call? You have a phone?”

“Yeah, there’s a shop around the corner that sells prepaid ones,” Bronwyn said, sniffing her shirt from the previous night. “I rang Sophie to tell her what happened with her car, and she said Gestalt practically ran her off the road on her way home from the club.”

Myfanwy sunk down on the edge of the bed. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. They interrogated her for a bit, and when it was clear they weren’t going to get any answers out of her, they let her go. Although, she said one of them sat parked outside her flat all night. It wouldn’t surprise me if they keep her under surveillance until they find you.”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry,” Myfanwy moaned, burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t mean to involve Sophie. Her life shouldn’t be disrupted over this.”

Bronwyn snorted. “Don’t be sorry. Sophie is having the time of her life. Besides, it’s one less body that we have to worry about.”

Her sister’s words were meant to comfort her, but they had the opposite effect. It felt like everything was out of control. The game had become so much more complicated, and she wasn’t sure she understood the rules anymore.

“Did you get me a phone?” Myfanwy asked suddenly.

Bronwyn stopped in the middle of folding her trousers. “Shit. Sorry, no. I should have in case we get separated. I can go back—” Before she could finish her sentence, her back pocket chimed, and she frowned as she read the text. “Heinrich will be here in five minutes. Do you have everything packed? We can’t risk leaving anything behind.”

Myfanwy scanned the room. The black dress and heels were still lying next to the bed, and she hastily placed them into her suitcase. She also pulled out her book from the front compartment so she could finish it during the drive. Then, she sighed and reluctantly made her way to the loo. She tried not to look too closely at the long strands of black hair clinging to the shower curtain or the grout growing between the cracked floor tiles. 

After she’d washed her hands, she stepped back into the room only to find it empty once again. Myfanwy walked outside and saw Bronwyn talking to two middle-aged men in the car park. They looked at her curiously when they heard the door open and said something to Bronwyn. A moment later, they climbed into their car and drove off. 

Bronwyn spun on her heel and smiled. She dangled a keyring between her fingers. “Ready to go?”

“We have a new car?” Myfanwy asked, confused. 

“Yeah, Heinrich and his brother drove here separately. They’ll make arrangements for Sophie’s car then drive back to Nuremberg later this afternoon. We’re on our own.” 

Myfanwy was both impressed and troubled by the Resistances’ seemingly endless resources. It didn’t make sense to her why they were so willing to help. 

After checking out of their room, they drove half an hour before stopping for lunch. The hostess seated them by the front window facing a park across the street. Myfanwy picked at her food and smiled at the sight of two little girls playing on the swings. 

“That used to be us. Before they took you,” Bronwyn said sadly. 

Myfanwy’s smile fell instantly. “That’s not fair. You can’t blame the Checquy for everything.”

“Yes, I can,” Bronwyn argued. The restaurant was quickly beginning to fill, and she glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Then, she folded her arms and leaned across the table. “You should have been home with your family, but you were kidnapped, Myfanwy. Forced into a life of indentured servitude. And the worst part is that you don’t even see it. It’s like you’re suffering from fucking Stockholm Syndrome!”

Myfanwy dropped her fork, so it clanged noisily on her plate. “I’m not going to have this fight again, Bronwyn. You told me you were done with this. It was my choice to stay. Mine. No one else's. You have to accept it.”

“No, I—” Bronwyn paused. She was quiet for a moment as she seemed to think something over. “Fine. I won’t say another word about it.” 

Myfanwy studied her sister until she was satisfied that she was telling the truth. Then, she picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of fruit. She watched as the juice seeped out onto the plate. 

Bronwyn’s eyes remained on the girls. 

“What you said to Felix about our childhood. Was any of it true?” Myfanwy asked. 

Bronwyn folded a napkin over her half-eaten sandwich and pushed the plate aside. “Parts of it. Dad hated cats, but he wasn’t allergic. He would never let us have one, no matter how much we begged. Though, a stray cat did wander into the garden once. Dad yelled from inside the house for mum to get rid of it, but when she went out there to trap it, she found four kittens nested in her tulips. 

“You ran out there to help, and it was love at first sight. Dad saw how much you cared for them so he agreed they could stay until they were weaned and mum could find them homes. We made a bed for them in the shed using a cardboard box and some old blankets. You even left your stuffed owl to watch over them. Unfortunately, by morning all the kittens were dead. Mum took them to the vet, and he said there was nothing we could have done. They were already sick when we found them.”

“I don’t remember that.”

Bronwyn cleared her throat. “Mum wasn’t a school teacher either, but she did quit her job as a secretary to stay home with us. She always said raising her children was the only purpose she needed in life. All the money in the world wasn’t worth sacrificing time with her family.”

Myfanwy’s eyes pricked with tears. “I wish I could have at least said goodbye.”

Bronwyn moved around the table to wrap her arms around Myfanwy. “She loved you more than anything, Myfanwy. Our love for you is the one thing the Checquy couldn’t take from us.”

They held each other as they cried. Once their tears ran dry, they wiped their cheeks and laughed at how ridiculous they looked. Myfanwy realized that was what she’d been missing all those years. A confidant. A best friend. A sister. 

Back on the road, Bronwyn listened to the radio, and Myfanwy read the last few chapters of her book. The sun began its descent in the sky, and as the distance to their destination shortened, Myfanwy turned the last page.

The ending was not what she expected. 

After a long, grueling chase through the woods, the kidnapper was fatally shot by a police officer. He tumbled off a cliff down to the river below, and his body was carried away by the current. The last abducted child was discovered in an underground bunker at a nearby cabin. She was returned home to her single mum, and as she watched the flashing lights of the police cars leave their property, it was revealed the abductor was actually saving the children from their abusive families after government agencies failed to do so. The fate of the girl, and the abductor, were left unknown. 

The parallels to her own life were unmistakable. 

The kidnapped child. The system of injustice. The savior disguised as an enemy. 

Only one question remained: who was her abductor? The Checquy or Bronwyn?

Not longer after Myfanwy finished her book, they pulled up to an iron gate surrounding a large estate. Bronwyn leaned out of the window to punch in the gate code, and they parted with a groaning creak. They drove around the circular drive, which had a water fountain at the center of it, and parked at the front steps. The house was made of cream-colored stones with two towers on either side.

It was undeniably grandeur compared to the cottage. 

Bronwyn smiled. “Welcome home.”


	9. The Discovery

Home.

A four-letter word. Simple. Easy to remember.

Yet, it meant many things to different people. For some, it was the place where they grew up. Four walls and a roof filled with the childhood memories of watching cartoons with their breakfast cereal and learning to ride a bike outside on the street. For others, it was someone they loved. A person who could make any place seem special, so long as they were there. For her, it wasn’t so much a person or a place, but a feeling. A sense of belonging.

In a way, she was only a year old, and the world was still so new. While her flat in London was a safe place to retire after a long day, it felt more like a relic of her former self than a home. There was no story behind anything inside of it. No emotional attachment. She didn’t remember picking out the decor after spending hours searching the shops. She didn’t reminisce anytime she looked at the souvenirs from her travels as a diplomat. She didn’t realize the sentimentality of the bottles of perfume or pieces of jewelry given to her as gifts.

And if there was a reflection of herself in any of it, she certainly didn’t see it. The titles of the books and albums lining her shelves were foreign and unfamiliar. The clothes hanging in the closet reeked of boredom and bureaucracy. Even the small space was better suited for someone who spent most of their time alone, and not hosting their hive mind love interest. 

Gestalt’s flat had the potential to be her home. She preferred it to her own, often finding herself in front of their building without understanding how she got there. Over several months, she’d collected items that slowly made their way inside. A knitted blanket at the foot of their sofa. A decorative plant in their windowsill. A rose scented candle on their entryway table. It was like a blank canvas that she could paint with the colors of _her_ personality. Within those walls, there was no forgotten history. No reminders that her memories were fragmented. However, none of those things would have mattered if it weren’t for Gestalt. _They_ made her feel like she belonged.

Myfanwy thought that she’d experience the same feeling at her parent’s house. Even though she had lived there sixteen years before her EVA manifested, she only felt the same emptiness that she felt in her flat. The photographs hanging on the walls of her goofy, toothless grins were those of a stranger. The entries in her old journals, while written by her hand, were the memories of someone else.The rooms were haunted by a version of herself that no longer existed. After countless visits, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was standing in a burial ground. Or some sick and twisted shrine to the past. All of their parents’ possessions had been carefully preserved, and she didn’t dare to disturb any of it.

The only other place she lived—however briefly—was the cottage in Amsterdam. They weren’t there nearly long enough for her to determine whether it felt like home, though she could appreciate the effort Bronwyn and Sophie made for it to feel as such.

As she stared up at the house in Hamburg, Myfanwy wasn’t so sure that she belonged there either. But spending time alone with her sister made her feel close enough.For all her faults, Bronwyn accepted her for who she was in the past and the present. And that meant everything.

Setting her suitcase at her feet, Myfanwy ran her fingers down one of the stone pillars while Bronwyn searched the potted plants outside the front door for a spare key. Specks of soil dusted her shoes as she dug heedlessly in the dirt. When her hands resurfaced, they were black and bare. She made an irritated noise and surveyed the area once more. Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, she bent down at the knees to tilt the biggest of the planters over, and with a soft grunt, she reached underneath it to produce a silver key.

Bronwyn grinned in triumph and let the planter fall back into place. The lanky tree rocked back and forth precariously before settling in its position. A single leaf broke loose from one of the branches and twirled down to the ground. She kicked it aside, stepping toward the door to slide the key into the lock.

Myfanwy stole a moment to look for signs of other cars on the estate, but she didn’t see any. While a part of her welcomed the thought of being alone with her sister, another part worried that they weren’t supposed to be there. Whoever owned the house went to the trouble of installing security measures, so she didn’t think it would take them long to realize that unwanted guests had set up camp in their home.

Once the lock clicked, Bronwyn pushed open the door to reveal the dark interior. She picked up her suitcase from the top step and walked fearlessly into the foyer. Myfanwy cast one last glance over her shoulder at the setting sun, then followed her into the house. 

Along the inside wall, Bronwyn turned on a lamp sitting on top of the console table and set down her car keys. Myfanwy noticed a piece of paper left lying open next to the lamp, but before she could make out any of the words, her sister snatched it in her hands and turned so she couldn’t see it. Bronwyn’s eyes flitted over the lines, a small frown forming on her lips.

“What is it?” Myfanwy asked cautiously. 

Bronwyn’s eyes snapped to her. “House rules. Nothing to worry about. Why don’t you go pick out the bedroom you want? I’ll sort out everything here.”

Myfanwy chewed the inside of her cheek. The luggage was heavy in her hands, and she desperately needed the loo after the long drive. But she could also tell Bronwyn wasn’t being entirely forthcoming about the contents of the letter. In the end, her need for the toilet won out, and she walked off to explore the house.

She left her suitcase at the bottom of the staircase and searched half of the first floor until she found the loo around the corner from the kitchen. After washing her hands, she opened the cabinet underneath the sink to see if there was a medical kit. She pushed aside various bottles of expensive brands of soaps and moisturizers. Finally, in the back corner, buried under boxes of tissues, she spotted the bright red bag. Setting it on the counter, she applied the antiseptic cream and a clean bandage to her hand.

Satisfied, she returned the medical kit to the cupboard, then turned out the lights. Back at the staircase, she picked up her luggage and set off for the second floor. At the top of the landing, she stared at a series of doors down a long hallway. On the other side of the stairs, there was a second hallway with as many doors, if not more. She continued forward, figuring a bedroom had to be behind one of the doors.

The first room she tried was a library. Shelves of books stretched from the floor to the ceiling, all around the room. A small sofa was nestled into the far wall, underneath the window overlooking the front of the house. Myfanwy wanted to read some of the titles, try to discern the type of person who owned those books, but she told herself it could wait. There was plenty of time, and she still needed to find a bedroom.

The second room she tried was cluttered with craft supplies. Stacks of easels laid on the floor. Balls of yarn spilled out of a wicker basket. Jars of beads and buttons and sequins were arranged neatly on a cart. Myfanwy studied the colorful fabrics sitting on top of the workbench, then moved along to the next room. After mistaking the upstairs loo and a linen closet for bedrooms, she finally found one at the end of the hallway.

A large, dark wooden bed took up the center of the room with matching bedside tables on either side and a wardrobe opposite of it. A cream-colored area rug covered most of the space, off-setting the deep forest green of the bedding. Myfanwy left her suitcase next to the door and threw herself down on the bed. The material was impossibly soft under her fingertips, and she could feel the muscles in her back relaxing. She closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the moment.

After a while, the silence started to unsettle her. It was suspiciously quiet in the house, especially by Bronwyn’s standards. There should be the blaring of music or the stomping of feet. Reluctantly, she rolled off of the bed and retraced her steps to the stairs, so she could search for her sister.

In the sitting room, she found Bronwyn kneeling in front of the stone fireplace. Myfanwy watched from the doorway as she tore the letter from the entryway table in half, twice, and then threw the pieces into the flames. The edges singed red before turning black, burning until all that remained was ash.

Myfanwy frowned. “What are you doing?”

Bronwyn startled at the sound of her voice. She swiveled her head to look at Myfanwy, then shrugged half-heartedly. “The Resistance doesn’t want to risk leaving any identifiable information lying around.”

“I don’t—”

Bronwyn suddenly leapt to her feet, shoved the fire iron back in its slot in the rack, and sprinted out of the room. Myfanwy narrowed her eyes at her sister’s retreating form, then back to the fireplace. She had a distinct feeling that Bronwyn never intended for her to read the letter. _But why?_

Sighing, Myfanwy turned to follow after her to ask.

In the kitchen, Bronwyn rummaged noisily through the cupboards, slamming them closed when she didn’t find what she was looking for inside. Throwing open the doors to the fridge, she eyed the empty shelves up and down, then closed the doors and leaned back against the appliance. “There isn’t even a can of fucking beans in this place.”

Myfanwy quirked an eyebrow. “Whose house is this, Bronwyn? Are we even allowed to be here? Because it’s starting to feel like we’re squatters.”

Bronwyn rolled her eyes and pushed off the fridge. “Relax. It’s a safe house. I’m not about to risk getting arrested for trespassing when we’re supposed to be incognito. Can you imagine Gestalt’s smug-ass smirk if they found us in jail before my contacts could get us out?”

A small smile started at the corner of Myfanwy’s mouth. Any animosity she felt toward them in the past day was slowly seeping away. As much as she wanted to win and prove her worth, the idea of Gestalt having to negotiate her release from a German prison was somewhat amusing.

“We’ll have to pick up some supplies in town tomorrow. But right now, I’m starving,” Bronwyn said as she pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Do you have any requests for dinner? I don’t know about you, but I could kill for a pizza.”

Myfanwy rested her elbows on the island counter and shook her head. She didn’t know enough about German cuisine to have a preference. “I don’t care. Order whatever you want.”

Bronwyn stuck her tongue out as she tapped away at the screen. There was a long pause, and then she tossed the phone onto the countertop. “Dinner is on its way. I’m going to take a quick shower before it arrives. My hair still reeks of smoke and booze from the club. Try not to get into any mischief without me.”

“You’re hilarious,” Myfanwy mumbled.

She watched as Bronwyn retrieved her suitcase from the front door, then disappeared up the set of stairs. There were a few beats of silence before she heard the tell-tale sound of a shower turning on.

While she was alone, she took the time to fully explore the house, studying the oil paintings of landscapes that hung on the walls and the decorative accents that sat on top of the shelves.

In the sitting room, she ran her fingers across the upholstery of the armchairs, thinking that it was perhaps something she’d choose for her own flat. _Was Old Myfanwy the kind of person that liked bold patterns?_ She didn’t think so.

A sleek, black grand piano sat wedged in the corner of the room. She lifted the fallboard and pressed down on one of the keys. The note rang out for a few moments, then faded away. She wondered if she’d ever taken lessons. Not that it would have mattered if she did. It would just be another experience lost to her amnesia. Something else that she would have to relearn.

At the windows, she pulled open the curtains to look out at the circle drive. She didn’t know why, but she almost expected to see Gestalt’s car parked beside theirs. Of course, it wasn’t there. They were still in Amsterdam, looking for leads that would take them nowhere. They had wasted the only trick up their sleeve, and now it was her turn to have the last laugh.

After closing the curtains, she wandered aimlessly out of the room. At the side of the house, she pushed open a set of french doors and stepped out to the conservatory. A large rectangular table and chairs sat in the center, surrounded by the overgrowth of greenery. Plants, of all shapes and sizes, stretched up the paned glass windows, straining for the last morsels of sunlight. Myfanwy took one of the leaves in her hand and traced her thumb over its silvery veins. The plant was well-watered, which meant someone had tended to it recently. _Did that mean the owner of the house would return?_

The thought was enough to send her scurrying back to the main house. She was on her way to the library when she noticed a door off of the dining room that she hadn’t yet tried. After a moment’s hesitation, she stalked over to the door and twisted the cold metal of the handle.

Inside, it was a simple study with more bookshelves wrapped around the room. The leather bound books smelled vaguely of cigar smoke and scotch, not entirely unpleasant. An antique desk took up most of the floor space, the top of it littered with picture frames and an old typewriter. She took an instinctive step forward to have a closer, but a ringing noise suddenly reverberated through the whole house.

Myfanwy poked her head out of the room, trying to work out if someone was at the front door when Bronwyn’s feet thudded down the stairs.

“I got it!” she called.

The door swung into the inside wall as she raced down the drive. Shaking her head, Myfanwy closed the study door to check if there was any damage. Thankfully, there wasn’t even a scuff mark, though there likely would be if it became a habit. A moment later, Bronwyn appeared carrying a large box in her hands. She bypassed Myfanwy, without a backward glance, her attention solely focused on the food. After locking the door, Myfanwy walked into the kitchen just as Bronwyn dangled a slice of pizza into her open mouth.

“You couldn’t have waited for me?”

“It’s not my fault you’re slow,” Bronwyn shot back. She took a generous bite, then swiped a bit of sauce off her bottom lip with her thumb. Swallowing, she pushed the box closer to Myfanwy. “Help yourself. You still like sausage, don’t you? I forgot to ask.”

Myfanwy pulled out one of the barstools from under the island. Then, picking up a slice, she nodded. “I do, actually. Is that something I liked as a kid?”

Bronwyn snorted. “It was your favorite. You refused to eat pizza at all if there wasn’t any sausage on it. Drove dad mad because you’d steal it off his plate when he wasn’t looking, so he was left with nothing but cheese.”

A spark of something flashed in her mind. Not quite a memory, but a feeling. It made her smile.

“Mm, that reminds me,” Bronwyn said cryptically, swinging her legs off the stool. She strode over to the fridge and reached inside to pull out two bottles of beer. Back at the island, she slid one across to Myfanwy.

Myfanwy spun the bottle around to read the label. Weihenstephan Hefe Weissbier. “Are we supposed to be drinking this?” she questioned.

Bronwyn opened the bottle on the edge of the counter. She took a deep swig, then shrugged. “Too late now.”

Although she rolled her eyes, Myfanwy snapped off the cap of her own bottle, and hummed appreciatively at the taste. As they ate, she listened to the stories Bronwyn shared about their childhood. A family holiday to Mallorca that Myfanwy had spent entirely sunbathing. An art project she had spent weeks working on for school, only for Bronwyn to trip over it on her way to the loo one night. An incident in which she crashed the family car into the garage when she was first learning to drive. Some of the stories she had heard at least once before, but Bronwyn retold them with the same enthusiasm that she had the first time.

But, all too soon, the beer bottles and pizza box were emptied, and Bronwyn’s story well ran dry. Stretching her arms behind her back, so her joints popped like firecrackers, Bronwyn jumped off the barstool. “I’m off to bed. Are you going to stay up?”

Myfanwy tore off a paper towel from the roll to clean up the crumbs on the counter, then nodded at her sister. “For a bit, yeah. I’m still feeling kind of wired after last night.”

“Right,” Bronwyn yawned. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

It took less time to clean the kitchen than Myfanwy thought, and soon she was left with idle hands. Staring down at the phone on the island, she reached out to check the time. It was only nine o’clock.

Sighing, she turned out the lights to the kitchen and walked back to the sitting room. She picked up one of the remotes off the coffee table and threw herself down onto the sofa. By sheer luck, she had chosen correctly, and the large TV screen came to life. She flipped through the channels, looking for anything that was in English. After a few minutes, she finally gave up and threw the remote back on the table. She drummed her fingers on her legs as she tried to think of something to do.

She could venture her way back to the library. It usually only took a few pages before she became absorbed in a story. But her mind was too active, and she didn’t think a book would hold her attention for long.

She could unpack her suitcase. It was still sitting abandoned on the floor of her bedroom, though there was no telling how long they would stay. If Gestalt showed up on their doorstep, they would need to leave immediately.

She could put her thoughts down on paper. It was a temporary fix for all her worries, but she knew that it would help her make sense of everything. Give her some much needed perspective.

It was the right choice.

Myfanwy stood from the sofa and walked back to the study. Turning on the light, she rounded the desk to look for paper and pen. She pushed aside the deckchair and pulled open the top drawer. Inside, she found a yellow legal pad and an assortment of ballpoint pens. Careful not to disturb anything else, she closed the drawer and turned to leave, but a picture at the edge of the desk caught her eye.

The German Federal Minister of Foreign Affairs.

She only recognized his face because they’d met at an event she attended three months ago in Marseille. A friendly international handshake. As a Rook, it was one of her first solo trips outside of the United Kingdom, and more importantly, a stepping stone to becoming a field agent. She had shared a drink with him at the bar after dinner. _Did he work with the Resistance?_

Myfanwy didn’t know what to do with the information. On the one hand, it was the kind of intel the Checquy could take advantage of, but on the other hand, she owed her life to the Resistance. Her_ sister_ was with the Resistance. It would be a betrayal whether she kept the information to herself or not.

She pushed the thought aside. It would save until later.

Back out in the sitting room, she curled herself on the sofa and covered her legs with a fleece blanket. Though the heat from the fireplace warmed the house, her skin felt like ice after finding the photograph.

Then, in the dim light, she wrote the familiar first line.

_Dear You,_

_What the fuck—_

Myfanwy crossed out the second line and sighed. Much too aggressive. She thought for a moment, tapping the pen impatiently on the pad, then started again.

_I don’t know what game you’re playing, but we had an agreement—_

She crossed out that line, too. Taking a deep breath, she wrote the sentence that had been on her mind since she left Amsterdam.

_I don’t know how to trust you anymore._

Myfanwy stared at the words for a long time. Shadows danced across the page from the fireplace as the meaning of the message slowly sank in.

It was a blatant lie.

It was absurd to think she couldn’t trust Gestalt because they tracked Bronwyn’s phone. If their roles were reversed, she’d stop at nothing to find them. She’d take advantage of every loophole available.

It was her fault that she was unprepared. It was her failing.

_She didn’t know how to trust herself._

Myfanwy didn’t know how to be the agent the Checquy needed. Or the girlfriend Gestalt needed. Or the sister Bronwyn needed.

It felt like she was constantly being pulled in two different directions. And no matter what, she was always disappointing someone. Most often herself.

With that sentence in mind, Myfanwy spent the next several hours writing a letter to herself. A letter about the struggles of being a living ghost. She described the fear of forever standing in the shadow of her former self, the frustration of being compared to someone she never knew. She detailed the freedom of finally being able to choose her own path. The only positive thing to come out of her memory loss was that she forgot all the trauma she had endured. There weren’t any inhibitions holding her back anymore.

But there were consequences to choice. She chose to remain at the Checquy, and that strained her relationship with Bronwyn. She chose to maintain contact with her sister, and that caused Gestalt to worry she would still leave. Her choices put her at the center of an ongoing battle between two powerful forces: the Resistance and the Checquy. And the two people she loved most had chosen opposing sides.

The night passed swiftly as she wrote her letter. When she finished, she signed her name at the bottom of the last page, and then looked up, surprised to see that the sun had risen.

She heard Bronwyn begin to stir upstairs, so she quickly tore the papers free from the binding. Throwing the blanket off, she knelt beside the hearth and tossed everything into the dying fire. It felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders, watching it burn.

Bronwyn came bounding down the stairs with a black leather jacket draped over her arm. She skipped the last step, landing heavily on the hardwood floor, and then looked over at Myfanwy curiously.“Have you been up all night?”

“Yeah.” Myfanwy’s voice was thick with exhaustion. “Too much on my mind, I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Myfanwy shook her head. “That’s okay.”

Bronwyn’s eyes flickered to the legal pad lying on top of the coffee table, though she didn’t ask about it. Instead, she shrugged on the jacket. “I’m going to the shops. Do you want to come?”

“No, I think I’ll try to get some sleep,” Myfanwy said, standing up from the floor. She started toward the staircase and pretended not to notice the disappointed look on Bronwyn’s face. 

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours!” Bronwyn yelled up at her.

Upstairs, she let herself into her room and collapsed in a heap onto the bed. The second her head hit the pillow, a wave of sleep swept over her. It was a dreamless sleep, the exhaustion too strong after days of stress.

She awoke sometime later with her hair in complete disarray, and her clothes bunched up uncomfortably around her waist. Reflexively, she reached out for her phone, then remembered that it was lying on the side of the road in Amsterdam. Shit.

Myfanwy let out a contented sigh before slipping out of the bed. Across the room, she listened in the doorway for the sound of Bronwyn downstairs, though she didn’t hear anything. Frowning, she stepped out into the hallway and noticed the door across from hers was left ajar.

She knocked on it softly. “Bronwyn?”

The slight pressure of her knuckles on the door pushed it open completely. Myfanwy peered into the room, and her shoulders slumped, seeing that it was empty. She reached for the doorknob to close it again when she noticed something strange on the bed. Without thinking, she walked further into the room to inspect it.

At the foot of the bed, she stopped and picked the item up off the duvet. And her heart fell to her stomach. She flipped through the pages of the passport, trying her best not to rip the sheets of paper in her fury. Because Bronwyn had procured passports in their alias’ names for the Republic of Singapore.

Downstairs, she heard the front door open, then the rustling of plastic bags. Myfanwy’s body vibrated with barely suppressed rage at her sister, and it took all her willpower to remain rooted in her spot. To force herself to calm down so they could have a rational conversation.

Once she felt in control, she made her way down to the kitchen, where Bronwyn was putting groceries away in the top cupboard. Hearing her footsteps, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at Myfanwy. “Hey, you! Fair warning, I might have gone a bit overboard with the shopping. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just bought a bit of everything. Have you tried Milch-Schnitte?” she asked, holding up a blue box. “It’s like a marshmallow in-between two layers of sponge cake. Amazing, if you ask me.”

Ignoring the question, Myfanwy threw the passports on the island, next to the overfilled bags of food. At the sound of them hitting the countertop, Bronwyn turned to look at her, then down to the documents. All the color immediately drained from her face when she recognized the red covers. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to think of an explanation. An excuse. “I can explain—”

“What is there to explain?” Myfanwy snapped, struggling to keep her tone even. Her fingers curled at her sides as her EVA hummed instinctively at the surface. “Those passports are for Singapore. What the hell were you going to do, Bronwyn? Were you going to sedate me like the Vultures? Were you going to call in reinforcements to strong-arm me into going? Were you going to lock me in a fucking cage?”

Bronwyn’s eyes widened in alarm. “No! Of course not! Those passports were only precautionary! I swear!”

“What does that mean?” Myfanwy demanded.

Bronwyn took a small step around the island, approaching her as if she were a skittish animal. “In case you changed your mind! I know you said that this was only temporary. And I believed you! But can you really blame me for hoping that you would change your mind once you were away from them? From the Checquy? From Gestalt?”

“Fuck! Bronwyn, this is my life you’re talking about! Why is it so difficult for you to understand that I’m happy?” Myfanwy ran her hands angrily through her hair, then forced herself to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry that you had to grow up without me. I’m sorry that dad drank himself to the point of killing himself and mum. I’m sorry that the Checquy has completely fucked over your life. I really am. But how are you any different from them? You pretend to have my best interests at heart, but you’re trying to force me into a life that I don’t want!”

Bronwyn’s expression turned furious. “I am _nothing_ like them_!_ Why can’t you see that I’m trying to help you! This was never supposed to be your life, Myfanwy! You were supposed to live an _ordinary_ life! Not work for a secret intelligence agency or fall in love with a fucking hive-mind!”

“Don’t you fucking talk about Gestalt,” Myfanwy warned. She walked around the island until they were standing in front of each other. “Do you want to know the truth? The truth is that you can’t stand knowing that Gestalt was there for me all those years that you weren’t. While you were spending every second of your life trying to get me back, I’d already moved on.”

“You can’t even remember them!” Bronwyn cried.

“And whose fucking fault is that?”

Bronwyn glared at her through glassy eyes. “You _wanted_ to leave. Nazim only erased those memories because you gave him permission.”

Myfanwy scoffed. “And what? My consent means shit now?”

“That’s not—”

“Save it! I’m tired of listening to your excuses,” Myfanwy sneered. She stormed out of the kitchen toward the front door, snatching the car keys off the table in the foyer as she passed. Behind her, Bronwyn called out her name in a resigned tone, and then chased after her once she realized that Myfanwy was leaving.

“Myfanwy! Where are you going?!”

Outside, she quickly shut and locked the driver's side door before Bronwyn’s palm slapped against the window. Turning on the ignition, she maneuvered out of the drive and down to the gate a few meters away. The black iron barrier remained closed, though, and Myfanwy desperately searched the car for the gate opener. She felt sick thinking that Bronwyn had purposely hidden it, sabotaging any attempts at escape, but then she finally found it in the cupholder. With the press of a button, the gates noisily parted, and she pulled out of the estate.

Myfanwy didn’t know where she was going. In truth, she didn’t particularly care as long she was far from Bronwyn. She couldn’t bear to look at her sister another minute, knowing that she hadn’t changed at all. The assurances that she’d accepted Myfanwy’s choice were lies. Over and over again, Bronwyn tried to undermine the life she had built for herself. The life she had built at the Checquy. And with Gestalt.

For a long time, she drove through the streets of Hamburg, too angry to pay any mind to the passage of time or the signs on the road. It wasn’t until her grip on the steering wheel finally loosened, and her blood no longer rushed in her ears that she took in her surroundings.

The cluster of buildings and condensed traffic suggested that she was somewhere in the inner city. Myfanwy drove past shopfront windows filled with women’s apparel and travel luggage and designer watches, all the while searching for any spark of familiarity. But the streets all looked the same, and the signs were worse than useless since she didn’t speak a word of German.

Dread settled heavily in the pit of her stomach as she realized that she didn’t know how to find her way back to the house. And she didn’t know the number of Bronwyn’s new burner phone to ask for directions either.

“Fuck,” she whispered, turning onto a side street.

Up ahead, sailboats glided across a lake. People along the shore waved at them, shouting something that she didn’t understand, but sounded like words of encouragement.

It was precisely the kind of place she needed.

Myfanwy pulled the car over at the first available space, then crossed the street to sit on one of the benches facing the water. She stared out at the rippling waves, admiring the way the sunlight glinted off the surface. All around her, laughter rang out from children playing and adults showing each other the screens of their phones. It made her sad that there was no one to share the moment with her.

The feeling was short-lived, however.

Not long after she’d sat down, something, or rather _someone_, appeared in the corner of her eye. Myfanwy’s eyes widened at the sight of Bronwyn shuffling nervously on her feet beside the bench. She was both relieved to see her sister and irritated that her reprieve was officially over.

“Truce?” Bronwyn asked in a small voice.

Myfanwy shrugged. “Truce.”

Bronwyn walked around the bench to sit next to her. They were both silent for several minutes, waiting for the other to be the first to speak. Finally, Bronwyn looked away from the sailors and faced Myfanwy directly. “I’m sorry. Okay? I honestly wasn’t trying to force you into anything. I just—I love you. You’re my sister, and I want what’s best for you.” She held up her hands after Myfanwy gave her a sharp look. “But I can see now that I’ve overstepped. The passports were only in case _you_ decided that you wanted to leave. I wanted to be prepared if you chose to stay with me.”

Myfanwy took a deep breath as she digested the information. “I’m sorry, too. I said some awful things back at the house.”

“Yeah,” Bronwyn sighed in resignation. “We don’t have to talk about that now, though. Will you come back with me? Or are you content to sleep on this bench for the next few days?”

A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah.” Then, something pricked at the back of her mind, and her smile fell. “How did you find me?”

Bronwyn held up her phone. “The car has a tracker. Standard issue for all our cars. The Resistance’s, I mean.”

Myfanwy nodded numbly. It was yet another detail she had missed. _How did she not think of GPS tracking?_

“Besides, you didn’t think I’d let you get away that easily, did you?” Bronwyn teased.

That’s what worried her the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest apologies for the unexpected hiatus. The words to this chapter did not come easily. 
> 
> Special thanks to Anongirl for her feedback and encouragement in the writing process.


End file.
